On the Crossing to Choose
by funanyaTHEmute
Summary: A high-school girl of Karakura Town knows a lot more than she lets on about the world of the dead. Eventual Renji/OC. OC-Centric.
1. Chapter 1

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter One**

* * *

"KONBANWA, MINNA-SAN! THIS WEEK'S EPISODE OF _SPIRIT HUNTER _IS BROUGHT TO YOU LIVE FROM AN ABANDONED HOSPITAL IN THE TOWN OF KARAKURA, WHERE THE TORTURED SCREAMS OF THE DEAD CAN BE HEARD _ECHOING THROUGH THE HALLS_!

"Who knows what horrifying sights we'll witness here this evening?"

"AND NOW FOLKS, LETS GIVE HIM A WARM WELCOME! THIS CENTURY'S PREMIERE SPIRITUALIST AND MESSENGER FROM HELL – MISTER DON KANONJI!"

The crowd roared in approval and turned its attention towards the night sky, some people pointing up at the helicopter hovering over head as if it was something that needed to be pointed out. I brought my eyes up at a far less enthusiastic pace, giving a slight yawn as the said "century's premiere spiritualist and messenger from hell" leaped from the copter, plummeting towards the earth and hollering something that I didn't bother to try to catch. A cape rippled behind the guy as he fell, giving him the appearance of some severely over grown bat before he had enough sense to pull out a parachute. Everyone seemed to find that action something to scream about, too.

I scoffed, peering around at all the cheering sycophants with the kind of look The Grinch gave those bucked-toothed midgets of Whoville. How could they be going along with this crap? It's wasn't that I didn't believe in ghosts personally, but I didn't see any point in making a big spectacle of this so-called power, if it could so be called; that's what really pissed me off about this Don Kanonji guy. Besides the part about him looking like a complete loon, practically every word that came out of his mouth was so... _just plain stupid_. And then, you know, there's the reality TV bit. Being a reality TV star is basically synonymous with being a psycho, isn't it? I mean, say Kanonji really could see and communicate with spirits: what did he gain by going on TV and making this huge deal of these "exorcisms"?

Nothing, that's what. Kanonji was more focused on his fame than actually helping spirits. (That is, if he could actually help spirits in the first place). He wasn't the only Joe on earth with that kind of ability, but you didn't see everyone else ghost hunting with a full camera crew. And I'd also be willing to bet that pretty much everyone else on earth, gifted or not, was far more attractive than this fool who imposed his face on the public. If you asked me, a show about a ghost hunter should follow a ghost hunter who I would actually enjoy looking at for a full hour every week. But then, I'm sure that any other sane, pretty person wouldn't go around parading their abilities with such pride as Kanonji. Any other sane, pretty person would probably hide something like that. I know I would.

I, if you were wondering, am Mikita Kame. I'm a high school student here in Karakura Town. This might be the part of the story where you would expect me to sing my life story, invent a nifty little tap dance, and spend the next few paragraphs giving you the inside scoop on my place in this plot line called life. But where the hell's the fun in that? That's the point of reading, my dears. I have faith that you'll all be able to put all the pieces together in no time. Physical activity is over rated; just keep sitting right there where you are in front of your computer screen and flex those brain muscles, baby.

Believe me, I'd give up a lung to be in your position. (Maybe not a lung, but definitely my spleen or something. That's not a vital organ, is it?). My position, in contrast, is outside of an abandoned hospital, watching with a curled lip as Don Kanonji took his doubtlessly troubled child hood out on my own fragile psyche. The worst part of all was that everyone else was totally into it. The only two people in the area who seemed to find the guy less than super was me and the scowling boy wonder himself, Ichigo Kurosaki. Then again, Ichigo didn't seem to like anything or anyone; it was more of a surprise that he came out in the first place.

Now, you may be asking yourself what I was doing at the live filming if I despised Kanonji and his show so much. Well, the answer's very simple. It's all because of a little old goat called Kisuke...

* * *

[**Earlier that Day**]

"BWAHAHA!"

Orihime was busting out her best impression of Don Kanonji, her arms crossed and fingers bent in the classic pose. Before her stood her crush, Ichigo, who had just entered the classroom only to be pounced upon by the big-breasted female. I watched the scene from my seat on the other side of the room, realizing - somehow for the first time - that nearly everyone surrounding me was a complete loser. The only reason I said _nearly_ everyone was because of the mortified look on Ichigo's face.

Orihime's cackles ceased after a second or two and she resumed her own identity to take in Ichigo's reaction. She seemed disappointed with it.

"Huh? Ichigo, you barely reacted at all. Don't you even know where it's from?" Orihime questioned while leaning forward. Ichigo's neck craned backwards.

"Uh, _Spirit Hunter_?" he answered, seeming just a tad bit frightened about the prospect of receiving another attack of "BWAHAHA".

"Yeah! Isn't that show just the best?" Orihime bounced back in more ways than one, her mood and posture lifting at the clap of her hands. "Come on then, Ichigo. Join in with me!"

Ichigo looked as if he'd rather jump out the window than join in. I, too, would have rather jumped out the window than listen to any more of that obnoxious laughing. So it was an event about on par with the second coming of Christ when Tatsuki stepped in out of nowhere to intercept her BFF's behavior. Before I knew it, Tatsuki was herding Orihime away from the entrance and towards our usual morning niche, where I and the rest of the girls were already settled in. Up until that point Mahana, Ryo, Chizuru, and Michiru had been chattering about something unimportant and uninteresting, but the talk lost momentum once they noticed the approaching duo. Girl's intuition, I guess.

Tatsuki and Orihime made room for themselves in the gaggle but waited until after Ichigo had reatreated into the hallway to strike up conversation.

"What was that all about, Tatsuki?" Orihime asked. "I was only talking to Ichigo. Why did you pull me away?"

Tatsuki frowned, crossing her arms and leaning against one of the desks. "Yeah, talking to him about _Spirit Hunter_. Ichigo can't stand those kinds of shows. What were you thinking, bringing that sort of thing up with him?"

Orihime lowered her head. "Oh. I didn't know..."

As harebrained as the the girl was, it really was hard to hold any hard feeling against her. My annoyance ebbed away, and a condolence slid off my tongue like saliva at the sight of Death By Chocolate. "Don't worry, Orihime. Just look around. Everybody's doing that idiot impression. Ichigo probably won't even remember you by tomorrow with all the other jerks bugging him with it."

When Orihime remained just as down, if not more so, than she was before my words of wisdom I coughed slightly, resigning to gaze around the room as if I never said a thing. Those might not have been the _best_ choice of words to comfort her, in hindsight. I probably should have put more thought into it.

"Wow. Way to go, Mikita," Tatsuki muttered, shooting me a haphazard glare. I batted my eyelashes a few times before dropping the act, slumping over my desk top.

"Yeah, I know. I've been thinking that going mute all together would have its benefits, but speaking is a hard habit to break."

Chizuru squealed and shot up from her seat. "Kita-chan, don't say things like that! I love hearing your voice everyday. And, by the way, you look _too _cute when you batter your eyelashes!" The bespectacled pixie then attempted to rush forward and engulf me in a hug slash clothed orgy. Luckily Tatsuki jumped into action for the second time that morning, rough-housing Chizuru back into her chair before she could even get all the way out of it.

"Back off, Chizuru! Quit hitting on my friends."

"Aw, Tatsuki, you're such a killjoy!"

I cleared my throat once those two had settled down, causing everyone to turn over to me. I blinked. I had only done that to break the silence - I didn't actually have anything to say. Using the first thing that popped into my head, I hastily voiced, "Hey, I wonder why Kuchiki wasn't with Kurosaki this morning. I mean, those two seem like they're attached at the hip during every waking second, don't they?"

There wasn't an immediate response from the others, so I reconsidered what I had just let spew out of my mouth. Was talking to a girl with a crush about her crush's interest in another girl a socially acceptable move? Probably only if that interest was homicidal, right? It was then that I semi-seriously considered sewing my lips shut. It was the first time I had ever been thankful to know Uryuu Ishida; he'd probably be more than happy to do me that particular favor.

I put on a sort of simper, hoping that my expression would pass as genuine. I wouldn't exactly be proud about making someone cry. "I'm sorry, Orihime. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

Orihime's face was downcast, draping a shadow over her features. I might have actually gotten legitimately worried if she hadn't chosen to look up when she did, a soft, surprising smile gracing her lips. "Don't worry about it, Kame-chan. Maybe Kuchiki-chan does like him! That would be great, wouldn't it?"

"Er, yeah, the greatest," I agreed with a series of nods, honestly not seeing any logic at all in her statement. Especially since she barely ever shared air with the boy while Rukia was the one who was never really _not_ with him. But whatever. As long as Orihime was happy. Just nod and go along with anything she says if it keeps the smile on her face.

"Oh, what a sweet moment!" Chizuru cheered from the sidelines, making the moment anything but sweet, if I did say so myself. "Let's have a group hug, huh?"

Now that just snapped Tatsuki's cord.

"What do I keep telling you? Don't hit on my friends!"

* * *

Following that morning show the rest of the day went by without incident. Well, unless you count the 99.97 percent of the student body that went around mimicking Don Kanonji all day. The .03 percent not participating consisted of Ichigo, Uryuu and I. By the time the final bell rang I was almost sure that stupid laugh would be reverberating in my skull for as long as I lived. Even Chad was doing the arm motion...thing. Now, come on! No offense to lug or anything, but if Sado Yasutora were to start joining in on a fad, I would have thought it would be a _cool_ one. Like ice fishing.

I walked home alone that day, physically unable to listen to anymore BWAHAHAs. If one more person were to say that phrase while standing too close to me I would not hesitate to hit them.

Of course, "BWAHAHA!" just happened to be the first thing I heard when I pulled open the Shouten door. Without a thought my fist connected with Urahara's face, charging straight through his paper fan and making it an unfortunate casualty of war.

Urahara rubbed his nose, which I was disappointed to see wasn't spouting a lethal amount of blood. The only real sign of pain the man showed was with the deep pout he wore while he regarded me from under his bucket hat.

"Kita-chan, what was that for?" Urahara questioned, throwing aside the broken fan only to pull a new one out of thin air. I was sidetracked by that development, letting my mouth once again work on autopilot while I squinted around for any wires or trap doors.

"Uh, I felt like it," I said. "What's with you of all people saying that, anyway? And where the hell did the fan come from?"

Urahara sent me a broad smile. He opening the fan with a flick of his wrist and fluttered it before what little visible face he had. The fan might as well have been a middle finger.

"Oh, that?" he said in mock innocence. I figured he was only answering the first of my questions verbally. "I was just getting you in the mood. We're all going to see the filming of _Spirit Hunter_ at the hospital!"

I could feel my face blanching. I just stared at Urahara for a minute or two, half expecting those child workers, Jinta and Ururu, to jump out waving flags and banners saying "APRIL FOOLS!". When nothing of the sort happened I could only ask,"Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Urahara sang with full conviction. The waving of the fan got more frantic. "I'd just like to go is all. We never do anything together. So that's why we're all going out as a family: you, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu, and myself. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

He sidled up to my side with the last sentence, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. I scowled, twitching at the contact.

"I hate that show, and that guy's a kook. I think I'll sit this one out, Urahara." I crossed my arms, providing him with the opportunity to remove himself from me before I forced him to. Rather than moving away he simply tightened his hold, his smile growing a little more merry.

"Oh, come on now, Kita-chan. You never know what could happen. What if a poor, misguided soul suddenly goes on the attack, and our hero Don Kanonji takes part in an epic battle? Wouldn't you want to see that?"

I was a bit preoccupied with seething at the hand making itself at home on my side, but I still managed to grumble a response. "No thanks, still not interested. Besides, it'd be all over the news for the next month, so I'd have to see it so often that it would feel like I really had been there. That's the beauty of this digital age."

I'd started tugging at his arm by the end, trying to pry the appendage from my body. It was like a damned octopus tentacle.

Ignoring the nails digging into his skin entirely, Kisuke sighed and folded his fan with a snap. "Oh, Kita-chan, what happened to us? We used to be so close when you were younger..."

"Yeah, before I went through puberty," I said through a grunt, still struggling with his arm. Urahara chuckled.

"Well, that's true. But there's something else. Things really were different between us back then, huh?"

I faltered for a brief breath before nodding and retreating my assault. Things really had changed since I first settled in here with Urahara and his crew, but that kind of thing was inevitable, wasn't it? You just had to suck it up and move on.

Despite my personal philosophy, I was on the brink of earning my place on Santa's Good List by agreeing to go along on the family outing. After all, I did sort of owe Urahara some kind of docility; how many guys out there, when faced with a little girl knocking on his door in the middle of the night asking for a place to stay, would actually take her in and raise her? (Without calling the police or FBI or that woman down the street who went freaky for the fatherly type, I mean). I was in the company of dolts on a daily basis, so being exposed to the group in compact form for a few hours wasn't going to kill me.

To reiterate, I _was_ on the brink of coming to that conclusion up until I felt Urahara's hand sliding off its already inappropriate position on my hip, making itself comfortable a little further down, if you catch my drift.

That's right. The local business man I had known since childhood - a paternal figure, if you will - was groping my butt. How sick was that?

I stiffened at the sudden action, not able to comprehend anything else other than the fact that his fingers were on my toosh. Urahara must have taken that as a sign that it was a perfectly alright thing to be doing because he gave my cheek a nice squeeze.

And not the cheek on my face.

That woke me from my state of shock. It was one of those instinctual ass-kicking moves that lead my elbow into Urahara's gut, and once he was keeled over and wheezing I gave him another whack upside the head just for good measure.

"What the hell's wrong with you, perv?" I snarled, watching with a small twinge of satisfaction as his hat was knocked to the floor from the force of my slap. Urahara was struggling to refill his lungs, but I wasn't concerned enough to hang around and hear him out. Instead, I pushed past him and headed for my room. "You can forget about me going on this little trip with you and the others, by the way. I'm staying here."

I didn't expect an answer or an argument to my decision. The matter over and done with, and the only thing I had to dread that night was a bruising elbow. For such a lazy old man, Urahara was surprisingly buff; those abs could definitely wash a load of laundry or two.

Before I could make it out of the room and out of ear shot, however, a testosterone-high Samara spoke up from behind me.

"I would reconsider if I were you, Kita-chan."

I furrowed my brow and turned, surprised to see that Urhara had already regained himself for the most part and was almost fully standing, fiddling with his discarded hat. While he repositioned it on his head I narrowed my eyes, liking his warning about as much as Mr. McGregor liked Peter Rabbit. "Why's that?"

"Because if you don't come with us, I'll lock you out."

"You wouldn't..."

He would. In fact, he had. Last year. I'd been given orders to clean out and organize the storage room, but I'd ended up just sampling the candy in the storage room. And by sampling, I mean I'd chowed down on about half our stock. Urahara told me he'd lock me out if I didn't both get the work done and replace the losses, but I hadn't believed him. When I got home from school the next day, there'd been a sign on the front door that said "Relocated to Missouri".

Really.

Of course, if I'd had any doubt that the entire thing was nothing but a hoax Jinta's jeering face in the window would have given it away. At the time I'd been so pissed about the whole thing that I just took off to Orihime's to stay the night. What I ate for dinner then was the true punishment in this story.

Urahara: the slimy, ingenious bastard.

* * *

[**Present**]

And so here I was, standing in the middle of a very loud throng of people, watching some kind of Ghost Buster wannabe bust some ghosts while simultaneously entertaining an easily excitable bunch with his catch phrase. What was that about anyway? What was "BWAHAHA" supposed to mean? Did he think it sounded cool or something? Because it didn't. His clothes weren't cool either. He was the antithesis of cool all around, really. How was it that he had fans, let alone so many of them?

I took another look over in Ichigo's direction out of boredom and smiled at the sight. No, not at the sight of _him_, at the sight of him and Orihime getting friendly. It was about time Orihime actually did something about her feelings. These days a girl had to be aggressive to get her man.

No sooner had that thought been thought did Orihime retreat, leaving Ichigo by himself in favor of joining Tatsuki.

But he wasn't alone for long. Just as Orihime disappeared into the mass of bodies Rukia came up behind him, she herself putting on the Don Kanonji act.

They were freaks, every single one of them.

I moved my scrutiny of the company on to the building. I had to admit, it did give off a pretty ominous feeling. It was an abandoned hospital, of course it would. It was exactly the kind of place you'd expect some kind of horrific haunting to take place. Couldn't Kanonji have found somewhere a bit more original? I bet for his next show, he'll be visiting a - wait for it - _graveyard_. How completely and unexpectedly surprising. I would have never guessed.

A sudden chill slithered up the length of my spine. Rather than get all tense and search for the source I lowered my head, biting back a snort. What kind of motive did Urahara have in making me go along with this? I should have just pretended to fall down the stairs or something. A broken leg would have been worth it; a broken leg would have meant I could milk immobility for a few weeks, at least. Then again, knowing him, Urahara would have just thrown me over Tessai's shoulder regardless. This event was apparently that important, for some reason.

I closed my eyes, throwing my head back and trying to block out all of the noise and creep-o auras around me. It almost worked, too, the blocking everything out, until the click of clogs tapped into my concentration.

"Don't space out now, Kita-chan. The show's about to start!"

"I know. That's why I'm spacing out."

From under my eyelids, I could still see that the lighting went down, which I took to signify the cue for _lights, camera, action_! Only, you know, without the lights, since this was a ghost story.

Urahara's chuckle was close to my ear. "Just stand back and watch, Kita-chan."

Well, if that wasn't the most impending line of the century...

I exhaled, lowering my head and forcing my eyes open just to stare Urahara down. "How is just sitting back and watching any fun?"

Urahara didn't really answer me, only giving a grin of utmost mystery and turning to watch the set. I raised a brow but following his gaze.

"The spirits are always with you! BWAHAHA!" Kanonji crowed, adopting his trademarked pose. The audience followed suit, each doing their own versions of Kanonji's mien. Actually, once you really looked at it, it was somewhat Wolverine-esque. Only Wolverine is awesome, and we've already established that Kanonji is so _not_.

"NOW THEN, THE TIME HAS COME ONCE AGAIN FOR DON KANONJI TO TAKE THE STAGE!"

That was the male announcer who felt the need to make up for his small stature by screaming into the mic.

"You can just feel the excitement in the air tonight!"

Then there was the obligatory boring woman who was just there so no one could say the company was sexist. The perfect cast for anti-imagination, main-stream media was in the flesh before your very eyes.

Kanonji, standing under a spotlight outside of the hospital entrance, leaned forward, stroking his chin. He gave a twirl his staff before jamming it straight ahead of him.

"Alright, let's send you over to the other side, Baby!" he shouted, making sure the entire audience could hear his commentary. We all did hear it, even when Kanonji himself didn't have a mic on him. Now that was real talent.

"WHOA! THERE IT IS, FOLKS! THE SUPER SPIRIT KING WITH AN UNUSUAL MOVE THIS EARLY IN THE GAME!"

"What the hell is he doing?" I questioned in an unintentional hiss. My limbs stiffened against my will, which I attributed to preparing to make some kind of move if I deemed the man a lost cause that I seriously needed to be far, far away from.

"Just sit back and wait. Maybe we'll find out," Urahara answered. His tone was bland, not giving anything away other than the fact that he knew precisely what was going on and precisely what was about to happen. That, of course, irked me to no end, and I would have chewed him out over it if a teen with the brightest hair you ever did see hadn't chosen that very moment to hop over the security ropes and start sprinting towards the television host.

"Kurosaki, what are you up to?" I mumbled, watching the bright haired boy get tackled by a group of security guards. I had enough heart to wince at the sight but didn't spend much time dwelling on his well being. I meant to return to demanding some insight on the situation from Urahara but when I faced him, I ended up facing his back.

"Be right back," I heard him say as he moved in towards the scene. Tessai had appeared at his side. "I've just got to take care of something."

"Okay, whatever," I answered even though he was already too far away to hear me. Frowning, I turned back to the show with crossed arms. Did it make sense for the person who didn't even want to be there to be ditched by the person who dragged them along in the first place? I didn't think so.

"Oi, Kame!"

My night only got worse when that unmistakable screech of Jinta's assaulted my ears. I swear, if the kid were a cartoon the sound that come out of his mouth would be drawn as a fleet of hungry, carnivorous caterpillars.

"What is it, Kid?" I really didn't care about being rude and stared straight ahead as I spoke. There was no helping having to listen to him, but that didn't mean I had to look at him. That kind of effort was reserved for more important people.

"Hey, look at me when and I talk to you. And I'm not a kid! Anyway, I want some popcorn. Take me and Ururu to the vender," Jinta demanded. I cocked a brow, but faced the short one as he had ever so kindly requested.

"Oh? Are you actually going to share your popcorn with her? How nice of you, Jinta. Maybe you really are growing up."

The red-head scoffed, stuffing his hands underneath his arms. "Are you crazy? She's only there to hold the bucket while _I _eat."

There wasn't much else I could think to do besides shake my head. It was one thing to be a jerk, but it was another to be a shameless jerk. "Sorry Kid, you can go get that crap yourself, and then hold it yourself while you're at it. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't have any money! Just hand over your wallet, then."

"Are _you_ crazy? No way am I handing over my wallet to some future Ferderline." I faced him fully after that, placing my hands on my hips in the scolding mother pose. (And then removing them as quick as a whip when I realized it was the scolding mother pose). I noticed Ururu standing just a ways beyond Jinta, fiddling with her skirt and playing an unwilling witness to the philippic, but didn't pay her any mind at that moment. "And why should I treat you to anything anyway?"

"Uh, for one, since I don't have any money, like I _said_ a second ago. And two because I'm a kid and you're the adult - you're supposed to treat me to stuff!"

"You were just complaining about me calling you a kid. Not to mention that you're not _my_ kid. I don't have to do anything."

With that, I decided that I was done exchanging words with Jinta and switched my attention to Ururu. "You want some popcorn, Ururu?"

The girl flushed, ducking her head and clutching at the hem of her skirt with more force. "Oh, um...I wouldn't want you to waste your money on me, Mikita-onee-san..."

"Hey, you get through telling me you're not getting me any then you go and ask Ururu if she wants some? That's not fair!"

I acted as if, by some miracle, I didn't hear Jinta's abnormally pitchy interruption. "Don't worry about it, Ururu. Good kids deserve to get treated every once in a while."

Ururu was hesitant to smile, and her teary eyes put me on edge. "R-really?" she questioned. It was like the girl thought I was going to spit in her face and skip away in cackles.

"Really." I grinned for her sake, even though the motion made me feel cheesy and awkward and about as dishonest as I could get. That was pretty pathetic; when was the last time I had smiled full-out and actually meant it?

I decided I didn't care and brushed the thought off, moving towards the outskirts of the mass where I imagined the refreshments would be. I gave some kind of lackluster hand motion to tell Ururu to follow.

"Now wait just a minute, Kame! If your gonna go off buying Ururu popcorn you're buying me some, too," Jinta called, bolting ahead of both Ururu and I without invitation. If the world functioned according to me, I would have had a crossbow in my hands and already fired at the back of his head.

The only thing holding me back was the fact that the wallet in my pocket was actually Urahara's, so the less money was left in it, the better. Oho, sweet retribution!

* * *

Nearly ten minutes and 1500 yen later the three of us were buffalo-ing our way back into the crowd. I carried a stick of cotton candy in my hands, strolling ahead of Ururu and Jinta as they quibbled. Well, as Jinta yelled and Ururu basically looked down and took it. Trying to separate them was useless, and I had already overdosed on Jinta's attitude. The butt-wipe had taken one bite of his popcorn before spitting it out and dumping the whole bucket in the trash. Two minutes later he had snatched Ururu's and downed it in one mouth full. I'm telling you, the beast belong in a zoo or product testing lab, not a household.

I did my best not to hear Jinta's squawking as I found my original vantage point. Nothing going on seemed to call out to me, so I put more focus towards my fluffified sugar than scanning the vicinity. (And yes, I do know fluffified is not a word, FYI). When my gaze landed on the side-lines where Urahara stood I got a little curious, though, and followed his line of sight up to the hospital's roof.

And there was something interesting. How long had it been since I had seen those hideous shinigami robes? And since when had Kurosaki gotten access to them?

Life as I had come to know it had just gotten world spinning bitch slap.

"Mission accomplished! BWAHAHA!"

"BWAHAHA!"

* * *

**(A/N)**

**This story was given a major over haulin' during the summer of 2011. (Or is still in the process of getting a major over haulin' if you're reading this **_**during**_** the summer of 2011; re-touched chapters are signified by the "*=*" symbol hugging the story title in the header). I dedicated a lot of time going through this thing and trying to make improvements - much more time than I intended or expected to. For the most part those improvements were grammatical and structural; that is to say, I fixed most of the more "n00b-y" elements of my past writing style. There's a better flow to the plot, less pointless distractions that take away from the plot, and...I **_**added**_** a plot. My OC Mikita remains her on-crack self, but not at the expense of wasting time and taking away from the development of the story, if you catch my drift. I hope everything I put into this pays off and it can now be enjoyed even more by both you dear, darling, day-making readers and myself from this point on, without any set backs!**

**There are a few key points from the summary I need you guys to keep in mind, though:**

**1) This story is **OC-Centric**. As in, centered around an OC. Don't hate. Things are slightly more canon than original while Mikita is still being introduced, but there will be a progression into more original than canon material once Mikita establishes herself as dimensional character. That might sound strange to new readers, but I think you'll understand what I mean as you go on. **

**2) The pairing in this story is **Eventual Renji/OC**. Since the story is OC-Centric, a large part of it is dedicated to developing Mikita as a character so that the romance element can come into play realistically. That takes time. Please be patient and enjoy the journey!**

**Title derived from/story theme: "Ukiyo Crossing" by UVERworld**


	2. Chapter 2

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"Absolutely _unbelievable_! Do you kids realize what you've done?"

I was pretty sure my eye was twitching. I'd never had the pleasure of spending a morning in the principal's office, but I'd always envisioned that if I ever were to I would at least be able to go around afterwards bragging about the delinquent activity that had landed me there. The glitch in the plan was that I was rotting away in the principals office without the slightest clue _what_ had landed me there. And it wasn't just me: the Breakfast Club also included Ichigo, Keigo, Mizuiro, Chad, Orihime, Tatsuki, and Rukia. My bet was that Ichigo was to blame. I mean, he didn't exactly have a squeaky-clean, glitter and rainbows reputation.

"Look at this." Kagine-Sensei pushed a button on his handy dandy remote that turned on the TV mounted to the wall, which was in the process of displaying a play-back of Ichigo as he ran onto the set of Don Kanonji. "This was broadcast all over the country the other day. _All over the country_!"

No one responded, half of the group looking sheepish and the other half just plain pissed. I was in the second category. (Except for a very small part of me that was victory dancing about Ichigo being the culprit behind me missing my mid-morning, mid-lecture snooze. If only rhetoric gambling with your own mind could reap material benefit, eh?)

"Ichigo Kurosaki," Kagine-Sensei said, grabbing the scowling boy by the front of his uniform. "Do you know how much you've shamed our school with this video's broadcast?"

"Kagine-Sensei," Tatsuki interrupted, raising her hand and stepping forward. The teacher turned his attention to the girl, though Ichigo remained in his clutches. "I understand why Ichigo and Rukia were called down, since they were on TV acting like idiots, but I don't think that there's any reason for Orihime and I to be here."

"I second that," I chimed in, not realizing that Tatsuki hadn't been including me in the statement until after I'd backed her up. Psh, some friend.

Kagine-Sensei didn't falter. "You were there with them," he reminded her stubbornly.

"That was just a coincidence," Tatsuki shot back, closing her eyes. "We just met them there by chance and weren't involved."

"Yeah, and _I _wasn't even with them," I pointed out, nodding along to my own words and reasoning. "_I _was on the other side of the lot for most of the show. _I_ never even spoke to any of them at all the entire time. _I'm_ completely innocent."

"Damn you, just trying to save yourselves..." Ichigo muttered, his words acidulous. Tatsuki stuck her tongue out at him, pulling down a mocking eyelid with her finger. I would have done something similar if lifting my arm hadn't seemed like too much work at the time.

"That's the situation, so we'll be going back to class now," Tatsuki said, regaining her composure and speaking like a true renegade. "Let's go, Orihime."

Orihime was more hesitant to leave than Tatsuki, but she eventually bent down in a quick bow before scurrying after the tomboy. Kagine-Sensei let them go without an argument.

"Then I will...too," Keigo attempted, only to become the next victim of Kagine-Sensei's iron grip.

"Not you!" he ordered, grabbing Keigo's shirt collar from behind. "You're just as guilty for not being there and stopping Kurosaki!"

"What's the big deal? Just 'cuz he's on TV?"

"_What's the big deal_?" Our principal pulled Keigo up so that his feet were left dangling above the floor. I was pretty sure he could get arrested for that kind of disciplinary action, but then again, it was Keigo. Who would care to prosecute? "Do you realize that your lack of self-awareness is the reason you're being pointed out? Unbelievable!"

Keigo's unfortunate ordeal gave me the fortunate opportunity to retreat. As much as I wished I could just moonwalk out of there and be done with it, my lack of athelicism force me to stick to slow, steady, backwards steps. I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for Rukia's sudden urge to start sobbing.

"I'm so sorry," she expressed, pulling out a tissue from nowhere (how did these people _do_ that?) and dabbing at her eyes. Her performance became the focal point for everyone in the room. "This is all my fault. I was unable to stop Kurosaki-kun, who was so excited he tried to get on TV. It's all my fault...I truly...desperately...but..." Her motor skills got lost in a flurry of tears.

If it hadn't been so quiet I would have scoffed. That was the oldest trick in the book, no way was anyone going to fall for it. The girl had a lot to learn. Not even Kagine-Sensei was that much of an idiot.

Only he was. He let Keigo fall to the ground in a crumpled heap and rushed forward.

"Ah, don't cry, Kuchiki," Kagine-Sensei begged, holding his hands up as if he was trying to debate whether or not to touch her. Tears are contagious, after all, or so I've heard. "It wasn't your fault, okay?"

Rukia did the opposite of "don't cry". "I don't care what happens to Kurosaki-kun but please, spare me!"

Again I held back a snort, turning to see how the other guys were taking it. Only there were no other guys; I could only vaguely see them through the opened window, sprinting across the lawn like Olympians. Kagine-Sensei caught onto that detail as well after another second or so. Soon enough my view was blocked by his lower half as hung on the sill, and that wasn't something I wanted to stick around to see more of.

"Well, we'll be off, then," I voiced, grabbing Rukia by the wrist and tugging her out of the office while the proverbial door was open. Kagine-Sensei continued to yell as we fled but I wasn't sure if the volume was directed towards the boys or us. Regardless, my goal was gaining as much distance from his office as I could.

When Rukia and I turned the corner at the end of the hall we stopped running. It may not have been much of a work-out, but I was still suffering from a stitch in my side by the end of it.

"Welcome to Karakura High, Rukia, where that's the kind of guy they let lead the children of the future," I drawled out through light puffs of air, straightening up once the cramp ebbed away. I brushed some invisible dust from my shoulder and faced Rukia, forcing my lips up. "Not bad back there, Kuchiki. Crocodile tears aren't really my style but whatever works for you, I guess. Thanks for the save."

Rukia's expression was vacant for such a short snippet of time that I barely registered it, but the proceeding million-watt smile was like a door in the face anyway. She then curtsied - _curtsied_ - and replied, "It wasn't a problem at all, Kame-san!"

I must have given her some kind of perfunctory show of approval, not really caring if it passed as unalloy or not. My mind was on other matters. Seriously, who did this girl think she was fooling? Was a curtsy suppose to make her _less_ suspicious? How had she not picked up on basic twenty-first century human behavior yet?

But I would play it cool. Because it was none of my business, really. (And just _because_ I was cool without even trying, make no mistake). "Kurosaki's probably going to kill us once school's over, though."

Rukia giggled like a Disney Princess. It made me want to barf.

I pivoted on my heel and started down the hallway. Play it cool, Mikita. "We should probably get to class at some point before lunch. There's some fine knowledge out there to be learning. That is what we're here for, right?"

"You're absolutely right, Kame-san!"

But Rukia should probably disregard the intended lesson and take the time to study the other students. Conformity wasn't always a bad thing.

* * *

"Well, all's well that ends well."

I glanced at Keigo, quirking a brow at his statement. He continued, this time addressing Rukia in particular. "And it's all thanks to Rukia."

"Oh dear, you flatter me!" Rukia blushed, putting a hand to her cheek. It was with that motion alone that I seriously considered ditching the bevy in favor of walking home alone, for the sake of my sanity.

"You idiot, don't praise her," Ichigo snapped, glaring at the incarnate of Scarlett O'Hara. "She tried to sell me out."

"But because of Rukia, you were able to escape, too," Tatsuki pointed out.

"No thanks to you, Tatsuki," I grumbled, unable to help myself from joining the banter once that issue popped up. "You left all of us there for dead."

"I didn't leave you alone in there, Mikita! I stood by you the whole time." Keigo more or less floated to my side, winding an arm around my shoulders. I shrugged him off before he could get too comfortable.

"Yeah, only because you were just as stuck as I was. And you did ditch me at the end there with that window stunt, smart one."

"Arisawa-san's right. It was a-c-t-i-n-g," Rukia cooed, _acting _innocent. "How could I possibly sell out my friend Kurosaki-kun?" Any further commentary was cut off by a ringing, which caused both Rukia and Ichigo to freeze in their steps. Rukia's glanced down at her breast pocket, where there was the bulge of what I assumed to be a cell phone, before plastering an overzealous smile onto her face. "Now that you mention it, I have to speak with you, Kurosaki-kun. Everyone, please excuse us." She curtsied as a farewell before both she and Ichigo veered off down an adjacent street, leaving the rest of us staring after them without a clue.

"What the heck?" Keigo asked, breaking the ice.

"What if Kurosaki-kun and Kuchiki-san..." Orihime began in a tone barely above a whisper. I closed my eyes, knowing what she was getting at. "Are they, like, dating?"

We resumed our journey as Keigo answered her. "No way! Rukia, at least, isn't interested."

"But you have to admit, _something's _suspicious," Mizuiro reasoned.

"Nope, nope," Keigo refused. I'd love to see what the kid did with a persuasive essay.

"You know," I recalled aloud, "Rukia never did answer her phone." I put a finger to my lip while thinking back. "As soon as it rang, she ran right away with Ichigo."

"Maybe Kuchiki-san and Kurosaki-kun are secret agents, like in the movies!" Orihime exclaimed, her over-active imagination going to work. I don't think I was the only one tuning her out when she went on to justify her theory. Instead, I scanned the area. Nothing much was going on, but after a bit more of a search I noticed that our mini army was missing a man. Chad had fallen behind at some point, standing about a half block back and staring up at the school.

No one, not even myself, realized that I stopped, too, upon making that observation. The rest of the group continued forward, but I found myself migrating towards Chad instead, my eyes trained on whatever was captivating his attention two stories up.

A person could be seen in the window of one of the classrooms, seemingly gazing right back down at us. Well, a person's shadow anyway, male by the look of it. (Either that or it was a abnormally under-developed and broad shouldered girl). I squinted slightly, tilting my head to try to identify him. The person put his hand to his face, twitching his wrist slightly. There was a small flash of light.

I frowned. It was only Uryuu.

Looking back at Chad, I decided to enlighten him, even if I didn't understand why he was so interested in the first place.

"That's Uryuu Ishida, from our class," I spoke. Chad snapped his head in my direction, apparently startled, his visible eye wide. I ignored his surprise and jerked my chin towards the occupied window. "Not many people even know he exists, he's so quiet. Just sits in the back of the room all day and never talks to anyone. I tried inviting him to a birthday party once, but he just threw the invitation away." Which was all for the best, considering it hadn't been _my _birthday party; I guess the Lego Star Wars theme of the card had given that much away. "Pretty emo kid, really."

Chad grunted softly at my explanation, gazing back towards the window. Uryuu had migrated to somewhere unknown, leaving Chad and I staring in a dark, empty pane. I switched gears and shot a glance in the direction of the others. They were too far away to bother catching up to, never having noticed or cared about our disappearance.

I sighed, sending Chad a small smile. "Looks like it's just me and you now."

He nodded, and then we were off. We walked without talking. I knew better than to try to start up a conversation; Chad generally showed the vocal ability of a caveman (no offense) but I would take that over a sufferer of chronic word vomit any day. I could settle with fooling around with the silver band I wore around my thumb for entertainment.

The two of us deserted the school grounds completely, walking down an empty street. I tried to tell myself the silence was comfortable, but somehow thinking that just made it twice as _un_comfortable. I guess that was natural, because what kind of girl wouldn't feel weird about walking home with a good-looking guy who apparently hadn't developed his ego outside of himself?

It came as a shock, then, when Chad opened his lips. Crazy stuff, right? Up there with the domestication of skunks in my book.

"Mikita?" Chad's deep, almost monotone voice was kind of like an earthquake in the quiet. I watched him from the corner of my eye. It was a rare treat indeed when you got to have a real chat with Sado Yasutora, especially when he initiated it.

"Yeah, Chad?" I asked, just to confirm that I was listening. It wasn't really needed, though, since Chad left the exchange hanging there. At first I figured he might have been trying to word what he wanted to say, but a full minute passed without any speech. I couldn't help but raise a brow and wonder if I'd just experienced some kind of delusion.

"The other night...at the filming. Did...anything strange...happen to you?"

I blinked. He really was talking that time. Only, I was so wound up in that fact that I neglected to listen to what had actually been said. So I responded with what any other person who was trying to avoid answering a question would say.

"What do you mean?"

I realized that I shouldn't expect an answer straight off the bat, so I just kept one ear tuned in on him while the rest of my mind wandered. Why would Chad be asking about the Don Kanonji show?

"Did you...hear anything? Like...screaming?"

I snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, who couldn't hear all that racket? It's like an Animal Farm convention when you round people up sometimes."

Chad's expression, from what I could tell, was initially teetering on the edge of anxious and trepid, but it crumpled as he shook his head. "No, not people yelling. Something...else."

My head cocked to the side. He was, without a doubt, completely serious. He'd heard some kind of inhuman screaming.

I folded my arms behind my neck and leaned back, looking up at the sky. "Nope, couldn't hear a thing other than everyone 'BWAHAHA'ing. Gave me nightmares."

Chad made a nondiscriminatory noise and resigned, returning his gaze to the path. I sneaked a peek at him, almost able to see the thoughts whirling between his ears. A smirk teased the corner of my lips, and I brought my eyes back up to the clouds.

Yup. Life as I had come to know it was getting bitch slap after bitch slap.

* * *

Chad wasn't the only one who had never known of Uryuu's existence. Ichigo had, coincidentally, only just bumped into him as well, and from what I gathered the two hadn't exactly made the greatest impression on each other. That conclusion was obvious enough when you saw the way they killed each other with their eyes all through class. Normally I would attribute the pointed finger to Ichigo when it came to bad relations, but I knew Uryuu's stick-up-the-ass mood could be just as bad, and two negatives never made a positive.

(Accept in multiplication, division, and some cases of subtraction, if you want to get technical.)

School ended for the day as it often did and I returned home, alone for a change. Jinta and Ururu were out in the front, the latter sweeping as the former using his broom as a baseball bat instead.

"Shouldn't you be cleaning, Jinta?" I asked as I approached the two on my way to the door. "Don't just stand there looking like a 'tard, do your job."

Jinta was, at first, frozen where he stood, but the deer caught in headlights effect wore off and his volatile temper took over.

"You're one to talk, Kame! All _you_ do is lay around. You don't clean, you can't cook - you're not good for anything."

I tsk'ed, stopping before him once I got close in. Ururu backed away a bit, her fragile frame quivering like a hairless mutt.

"Oh, really?" I said. "You don't seem very helpful yourself when you're standing here swinging sticks around. At least I go to school."

Jinta snarled, drawing himself up to his full height. He still only reaching my elbow, at best. "Yeah, and you do nothin' but slack off there, too! I'll have you know that I'm gonna be great one day without goin' to school and when I get famous, the first thing I'm gonna say is: 'In your face, Kame!'. Don't even try bummin' money or food or anything off of me then, either. You won't be getting a single stinkin' thing from me!"

How cute, he had outlandish aspirations. The thought of reality crashing down on him brought a smirk to my face. "You're so hostile, Jinta. If you ever do get away from the store, just know you'll still be holding a broom, only wearing prison stripes. Now get to work before I bring Tessai out here."

Even if he didn't like or see any worth in me, the fact that I was an elder still made Jinta obligated to respect me at least a _widdle bitty bit_, so he reeled in some of his anger and started using his head to build his case.

"It doesn't take two people to sweep," he stated. "I'm better off just watchin' TV or somethin' while Ururu cleans."

Ururu let her courage get a little out of hand, protesting, "But Jinta, I want a break, too. Maybe you could do the chores today, just this once?"

Jinta and I laid eyes on Ururu with similar expressions of awe, but I lagged behind in the recovery period, not snapping out of it until Jinta had already lunged.

"Hey!" I snapped, stepping into the frenzy myself and wresting Jinta's hands away from Ururu's pigtails. I tossed Jinta aside and gave Ururu a once-over from over my shoulder, noting her small whining but lack of serious injury. Somehow the two quieted down and turned to me for further direction. It was strange how instinct worked sometimes.

"I have an idea," I announced, looking at them both in turn. I heard a gruff "That's a first" from Jinta, but I continued as if I hadn't. "How about you two play a game and whoever wins has to do the chores today?"

There was a period of deliberation before Jinta scoffed. "What are we supposed to play? Ururu sucks at everything."

I pat the top of his head in a patronizing, hammering-a-nail-into-concrete kind of way. "Janken's a safe game that anyone can play. Even you, Jinta, since it requires no mental function. Have fun!"

I shoved Jinta aside and surged on into the store. As usual, it was empty. Therefore, I didn't feel so self-conscious about humming an old 3LW tune as I made my way into the house portion of the building, heading straight for the kitchen. I let my book bag drop to the floor without a care once I got there. Tessai was, as expected, occupying the room as well, preparing something on the stove that I assumed to be dinner. He turned at the sound of my footsteps.

"Ah, Kame-Dono, welcome home. Do you need anything?" he asked in his anomalous booming yet mannerly voice. Tessai reminded me of one of those butlers from rich English families. You know, the ones named Winston or something posh like that. His structure might have been unorthodox, but he would probably be a smashing success in the Phantomhive mansion.

I made a bee-line for the refrigerator, speaking along the way. "Nope, I'm good. But you might want to check on Jinta and Ururu. It's one of those days." I didn't bother to elaborate, knowing Tessai could paint the picture for himself.

"Thank you for informing me, Kame-Dono," Tessai said. He made a few quick adjustments to the dish in front of him before stepping away from his work and evacuating the kitchen.

Once the necessary amount of ice cream and juice boxes had been gathered I retreated from the fridge, closing the door with my foot. There was no need for silverware, as I always left a spoon in the ice cream carton. (Tip: If your leave your infested spoon in the ice cream carton, it takes care of two birds with one stone. You don't have to go through the hassle of getting a new utensil every time you eat, and other people aren't likely to steal your germy ice cream. Take that, Martha). I passed straight by my schoolbag on the way to my bedroom. Just as I was coming up to my destination, Kisuke turned the corner up ahead, entering the hall and heading straight towards me. He spotted me in an instant, of course, and a Cheshire grin broke out across his face as if it was a chance meeting.

"Bonjour, my dear! How are you?" If I didn't know any better, I would have said he was high. Apparently you can do that with something as innocent as nutmeg these days.

"Um, fine."

"No trouble in school?"

"Not really. But now that you mention it, what's the deal with this spiritual-"

"Yes, yes, that's nice, Mikita. Pardon me, but I have a customer I must be attending to. Salut!" And with that, I was snubbed, my insignificant, teenage concerns proving to be no match for monetary prospect. Or maybe Urahara just wanted to get away from the question itself?

Or maybe the customer was a woman. That was more likely.

I continued on my way, using my foot again to slide open my bedroom door. In a matter of minutes I was snuggled into my blankets with my beloved snacks, not having a single care for the world beyond the perimeter of my mattress.

I laid back in my pillows and looked up at the ceiling, sucking on the frozen cream on my frozen cutlery. Jinta had been right, in a way; I wasn't the single most productive person out there. But hey, what else was I supposed to be doing besides my own thing? Being labeled as a useless lazy person wasn't such a big deal. I could just take over the candy shop and get some minions of my own when I was all grown up. It didn't seem like too bad of a gig when you really thought about it. Actually, Urahara kind of had it made.

In the middle of imagining myself as a middle aged, female version of Urahara, a sudden prickling at the back of my neck caused me to shiver. Within the next moment, though, that prickling turned into a static sort of notion that shot straight to my heart, stunning it. I shot up in bed with a strangled gasp, my spoon and ice cream falling to the floor, their clattering falling on deaf ears.

That, on the other hand, was not a very nice feeling at all. And as I stared out of my window, I had another not very nice feeling at all that doing my own thing was going turn into something that was easier said than done. There were too many weird things going on at once for them to be a coincidence, and a bunch of weird things rolled up into one problem usually meant it was one super problem.

But what exactly was the problem?

* * *

The tingling between my shoulder blades became unavoidable. It wasn't the first time I'd experienced something of the sort by far, but the level of intensity was something I hadn't been exposed to in years (and years and years and _years_, if you know what I mean.)

With a condescending huff I swung my legs over the side of the bed, planting my feet on the floor and swinging my weight up onto them. My legs more of less worked on their own accord, bringing me through the house and towards the adjacent shop, where Urhara was. I didn't really bother to try to be sneaky about it, letting my feet slap and stomp as a warning. You could never really be sure what that guy was up to, and if I'd learned one thing it was that I never wanted to be sure of what he was up to.

When I entered the shop, I didn't really consider the situation anything to be too worried about. If there was reason to panic, there probably would have been flames and shrieks and flying saucers outside. My eyes sought out the shop keeper, a snappy demand for an explanation on the tip of my tongue, but I fumbled with my reaction once I actually got a good look at him. Urahara was seated on his pillow throne overseeing the shop, but there wasn't anything particularly Urahara-esque about him at that moment. (Apart from the fact that he was Urahara, but that was trifle). There was no little glimmer in his eyes or too sweet to be true smile on his lips; he was, as I had very rarely ever seen him, as somber and a bomber.

I opened my mouth, trying to at least get out his name and gain his attention somehow, but at the same time praying he wouldn't morph into some kind of alien and eat me. But he beat me to it with the introductions, and a part of me was glad to actually hear his real voice, no matter how discomforting the dead tone of it was.

"I see. You felt it too, Mikita."

I nodded slowly. "It's kinda hard not to."

Urahara never called me by my full name, at least not without a '-chan' at the end of it. This really had to have been something big, then, and I honestly felt like I had just stepped into an episode of _The_ _X Files. _I could practically hear that eerie theme song playing in the background. It gave me even more chills.

I snapped out of it when Urahara stood, his expression all of a sudden slipping back into its usual goofy grin. I raised an eyebrow, confused by his change but admittedly relieved all the same. Maybe it wasn't as big of a deal as I had thought. Or, I mean, it wasn't a big deal _as_ I had thought. I knew better than to ask once Urahara had gone back into his ho-hum puppet shell. He wouldn't answer me. Not directly, at least.

The candy man smirked, throwing an arm around my shoulder like he had done so many times before. "You know what we have to do now, right?"

I wasn't feeling very up to any challenges. In some corner of my mind the idea of getting in on the action sounded like the best thing to come along since escalators, but my lazier half just wanted to go back to my room and eat. Urahara usually took care of things like this by himself - or, you know, not at all, which was probably where I got it from - so I was used to sitting around here waiting whenever he went out on his little missions. Why was he set on including me so much in the past few weeks?

"Do I have to go?" I didn't care if I sounded like a sulking teen. I was a sulking teen. Kinda.

Urahara grinned even wider at my words, fiddling with his hat with his free hand. "Now Kita-chan, you never know what could happen. What if this is your chance to get swept into a grand adventure? You wouldn't want to miss out on that, would you?"

I scowled, noticing the nostalgia of his words. "I've heard something like that before, when you were getting me to go to that dumb filming. What do you know about all of this, Kisuke?"

Urahara blinked, looking down at me with a hint of surprise. Just like he never called me by my first name, I never called him by his. But since he'd changed the rules, it was only fair to play along.

A slow smile formed on Urahara's face, this one genuine but somewhat woebegone. His eyes were focused away from me in a slight daze.

"Things really are going back to how they used to be," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough so that I could hear him. I dipped my chin, my mouth twitching upwards in a curl when I caught on to the meaning behind his words. Truthfully, I didn't know how I was supposed to react to it all. Should I be nervous, excited, frustrated? Well, when in doubt, give up, or so was my motto.

Thing is, thinking about not getting worked up wasn't the most effective coping mechanism against anxious stomach churning.

"You don't say," I said, sucking on my lip and staring down at my fingers as I, once again, used my thumb ring as a distraction. "I guess we should go grab Tessai and the squirts and head out, huh?"

Urahara chuckled, removing himself from me and walking towards the door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you more than I thought, Mikita. I see you becoming more and more like me every day."

He left the room, leaving me alone in a state of instantaneous, indescribable panic. Becoming like Kisuke? Becoming Kisuke? That was all fine in good in a rhetoric, take over the store and drive my slaves from a pedestal kind of way, but in reality...

Well, I believe the political term was "FML".


	3. Chapter 3

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"So...what exactly are you going to do with those two?"

My fingers cupped my chin while I watched Tessai roll up some onigiri for lunch. The both of them - Tessai and Urahara - had been ignoring me for the most part since the mini mission. (Which I, incidentally, hadn't participated in after all; someone need to "watch the store", according to Urahara. Yeah, whatever, I didn't really care that much anyway). It was their loss, since they had to deal with my twenty questions. Plus I got to finish my ice cream. The only down side was that it all nearly came spewing back up when Tessai waltzed in with Chad slung over one shoulder and Orihime over the other. It was the kind of thing that needed an explanation, and my insistent inquiries were in hopes that someone would cave and give me one.

They didn't.

At least, not yet. The closest thing to a clue I got was when Urahara held out Orihime's hairpins, asking if I knew anything about them. I told him that they were a gift from her dead brother and that she barely ever took them off, which was about all I knew about them. After hearing that, Urahara treated them like evidence and went all CSI in examining them. I told him it was rude to steal another person's belongings, especially when the person was kidnapped, passed out, and stuffed in a closet (okay, bedroom) somewhere, but I didn't think he was listening to that valuable piece of info.

(He would regret not listening, though, if he ever tried to steal my ring and poke at it. If the guy had any balls to begin with, he wouldn't by the time I finished with him.)

I ended up dozing off at the counter after a while, giving up on the two men. It was when Urahara stood and made to retreat that I snapped back to life, drilling him with a callous, cerulean stare.

"I think it's time to go check up on your friends now, Kita-chan. They should be waking up soon." Urahara beckoned me to follow with a freakish, Freddy Krueger smile. I raised a brow but pushed off from the counter anyway.

We never said a word while we walked, partly because there wasn't much to say and also because it was so tense that one of us speaking up would have just been obnoxious. Before I knew it, Urahara was sliding open the door where Chad and Orihime were being kept. He stepped into the room and commented, "So you're finally awake."

I figured that bursting in myself might not have be the best idea at that moment, so I hung back just outside of the doorway. There was some whispering going on between Orihime and Chad, but Urahara didn't seem to mind it. I think he thoroughly enjoyed the times when he got to act like some kind of dark, mysterious magician or something. His usual self was so goofy that seeing him with such a somber, superior aura was more pathetic than impending, given the situation. Did he really think it was cool to try to scare two teenagers who were clueless and kidnapped? He was lucky that the two he snatched happened to be orphans, otherwise he'd have a slew of lawyers on his ass.

I was moving in before it could be a conscious decision, breaking up the severity of the scene with my less-than-intimidating presence. Raining on Urahara's parade was a natural instinct, what could I say?

Orihime and Chad quieted upon my entrance. Orihime's face had gone from startled to relieved, and then to confused. She looked back and forth between Urahara and I, clearly looking for a connection. Chad...well, acted like typical, poker-faced Chad. If I had to guess, I'm sure there were plenty of questions buzzing around under that mop of Mexican hair, though.

"Well, to answer your observation before we were interrupted, that _is_ correct. Now, where shall I begin..." Urahara's cryptic message fell on deaf ears. Chad and Orihime were more interested in me at the time, which was understandable. When Urahara left his words hanging, probably for a failed dramatic effect, Orihime simply overrode them.

"Kame-chan! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed. Chad followed up her inquiry with his own manly, "What are _we_doing here?"

I smiled, more because of Urahara's pout than to comforting my classmates. The latter sentiment worked in Orihime's case, but Chad wasn't so easily thrown off. Choosing to let Urahara go back to his own business, I answered with a simple, "I live here. As for what you two are here for, the old man will answer that." I gestured to Urahara, just in case they didn't know who "old man" referred to. "Don't worry about him. He tries to act tough, but the most damage he could do is groping you when you turn the other way."

As lame as it was to bale after two words, I knew I didn't have any purpose in being there. Urahara had let me tag along, but I wasn't legitimately involved in any of this yet and I wanted to keep it that was as long as possible. Maybe showing my face had only gotten Chad and Orihime to have a little more faith in Urahara, or maybe they would have trusted him anyway. (Although, really, why trust a guy who knocks you out and brings you home?). Regardless, I was blowing that Popsicle stand while I still had the chance, even if I was curious. It was only a matter of time, as they say. I could hold out until then.

"I'll see you guys in a while, but I'll leave you alone so that Urahara can explain things," I said, crossing my arms and moseying back out to the hall. "Have fun."

I shut the door behind me and leaned back against the frame. I could hear Urahara start speaking behind me, but didn't bother to really listen.

I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to classify these events as bitch-slaps. They were turning into something more like one of those cartoon boxing gloves popping out of the wall and decapitating you. I didn't want to be some zombie scrambling to find my head; it was working just fine for me right where it was.

* * *

"Wow, Ururu, I never knew you were so amazing," I complimented the girl in genuine awe, watching her heave a massive, linen-wrapped cannon over her shoulder as we walked. It had been a few hours since the incident back at the shoten, and the five of us - Urahara, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu, and me - were on our way to...somewhere. I didn't know the specifics, only that Urahara seemed to think it was very important that we all be there. Orihime and Chad had been instructed to go hang out at a vantage point to watch from a safe distance. Since I was on the ground and not with them, I took that to mean the aforementioned matter of time had come quicker than expected.

"Hey, what about me? I have a weapon too, ya know, and I'm a way better fighter than Ururu!" Jinta said, banishing his tessen. I stuck my finger in my ear, feeling it throb a bit from the volume of his voice.

Sticking my hands into my pockets to inconspicuously wipe off the ear wax, I countered, "Yeah, but look how huge Ururu's weapon is. You have a baseball bat and she has a mutant gun. Her's is much cooler, and size _does_ matter when it comes to impressing a girl like me."

Jinta grumbled and Ururu blushed. Kids will be kids.

"All right, you two," Urahara drawled from up ahead. "You know what to do. Mikita, you just stay by me for now and watch."

Jinta and Ururu confirmed their understanding in unison, running forward to catch up with Tessai. I made my way to Urahara at my own pace, trying my best not to have a care in the world as we approached our destination.

Huge, shadowed creatures surrounded two boys in the park ahead of us. Ichigo and Uryuu were doing all they could to fend off the dementors on steroids, but dementors on steroids were even more difficult to fend off than regular dementors. They were probably going to die. And never be happy again in the afterlife.

"It really does remind you of the old days, huh?" Urahara asked conversationally, as if he really did not have a care in the world, despite was was happening a hundred yards in front of him. But I knew better. I think.

My only response was a shrug.

Urahara gave a frugal chuckle. We watched as Ururu leaped forward, activating her cannon and shooting hundreds of bright bullets towards the monsters. Jinta wasn't too far behind, swinging his tessen and hollering his catchphrase. Tessai got in on the action, too, using his own fists as his weapons. When the assault was under control for the moment, the three of them leaped back to Urahara and I. It was in then that I was hit with some frantic wave of panic. The fight or flight instinct kicked in, the battle only lasting the smallest fraction of a second.

I was out of there before I could even tell myself to get out of there. I wasn't quite ready to let Ichigo and Uryuu in on my secret yet, and I wasn't quite ready to be let in on theirs. Screw the aforementioned matter of timing coming quicker than expected - it could just keep chasing me until I decided I was ready for it.

* * *

"Orihime? Do you see Ichigo? And Uryuu next to him?"

"Yes. Urahara-san said to watch from here. So...did he mean that we should watch so that when the time comes, we'll be able to chose the path we'll walk? Sado-kun, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Hmmm..." was the only response she received. I rolled my eyes from behind them, leaning back against the pedestrian bridge's railing. Didn't Chad know how to comfort a girl? I mean, he didn't have to be such an ape all the time. Even an "I don't know, Orihime" would have been _something_.

You could clearly never trust a boy with anything that involved words and feelings. I would have to do that part myself. Even if I only had about a speck of dust's leverage on the male species, if we're being honest.

"You don't have to decide anything yet," I said, my voice a drawl. "That's why you're here, to get a better grasp on the situation. There's still some time left before you're faced with and have to make a choice."

And I'd be damned if I made that choice before the last possible moment. I was the definition of a procrastinator.

The two spun around, having not had any reason to notice me before that point while I played Peeping Tom.

"Kame-chan, your back!" Orihime pointed out the obvious. And I confirmed the obvious with a nod, moving forward to stand at her side. I'd anticipated that she would be the one asking all the questions, but it was actually Chad who spoke up first. Again.

"You lied to me, didn't you?" he asked in his baritone, although he never took his eyes away from the park below us. I cast him a sideways glance.

"About what?"

Chad stayed silent for a moment, apparently weighing his options. (Or you never know - maybe he didn't talk all that much because he never actually learned Japanese and had to figure out _how_ to talk before he did it). He did eventually gather his words. "The other day, when I asked you if you heard that screaming. You did, didn't you?"

My expression was still for a few moments before a smirk crept into place. "Yup."

Chad grunted softly, seeming content with my answer. I didn't realize until then how much it would have sucked if he'd been pissed at me, so my mood lifted a bit at his compliance. A bright reddish light filled the air almost in sync with that thought, though, drawing our attentions back to the battle.

"Kame-chan, was is that?" Orihime asked, her voice full of fear. I didn't answer her right away, only narrowing my eyes at the sight and getting too caught up in my own head. After a moment of tense silence I brushed it off with a strong, nasal inhale.

"Nothing you two need to worry too much about right now. I'm sure it will be taken care of soon. In fact, I think that's my cue. See ya."

"Kame-chan, wait!" Orihime yelped, whipping around to catch my arm. Her fingers probably grasped the area where I stood just as I disappeared from it.

* * *

"This will work, I'm sure of it," Uryuu asserted, glaring up at the giant creature - the menos grande - in front of him. It could have been a great, gallant scene. The only thing ruining it was the giant sword that he had strapped to the top of his head. Not exactly an admirable hero's ensemble. "Ichigo," he called over his shoulder, "grab that sword and let's do it!"

Rather than an awesomely cliché battle where two enemies overcame their differences and joined together to destroy all evil, Uryuu was left standing alone in the middle of the park while his partner swiped the weapon from his head and ran in for the kill solo. Uryuu was stunned for a few ticks of the clock, but it didn't take long for him to switch his glare from the menos to the orange haired boy flailing around the menos' feet.

"I meant that we would do it _together_!" Uryuu scolded.

Before much more could be said or done, the menos released a powerful cero, radiating a crippling energy wave out over the entire park. A series of events proceeded to unfold, wherein Ichigo first shielded himself with his blade, began shedding some warped reishi, and was able to climb to his feet and overpower the spiritual pressure of the menos enough to land a good hit on it. Taken aback by the successful attack, the menos began to make its way back into the black hole in the sky, clutching the gash running down the length of its body. Retreating into the shelter of the Hueco Mundo, the monster drifted into its own world and left ours in peace. Grinning from the ground, Ichigo thrust his hand into the air, shouting out for all to hear a pride-filled, "I WIN!"

I chuckled under my breath, watching as the crack in the sky sealed itself closed. I sighed once it was gone, leaning against the tree trunk and letting my legs dangle on either side of the branch that was holding me up. A rather smug Ichigo walked over to Uryuu, who was kneeling a bit of a ways away from the tree I used as shelter.

"What's the matter, Uryuu?" Ichigo taunted. "You don't have anything to say? I just saved your butt and cleaned up your mess, too. It seems like...you could at least say 'thank you' or 'congratulations' or...something..." His mocking was interrupted when he face planted into the ground. "That's weird. I...can't move," Ichigo said, not audibly worried about the sudden loss of bodily control. His sword began to illuminate, the glow mimicking heated metal ready to be molded. "What the hell?"

Upon hearing Ichigo's gasps of pain, Uryuu sprang into action and placed a foot on Ichigo's sword. As soon as they contacted, Ichigo's reiatsu flooded into Uryuu's body, popping open his skin with the rush or raw power. Uryuu sucked up the pain and summoned his quincy bow, using it to absorb some of the spirit energy and shoot it into the sky as arrows. You had to hand it to the kid for quick thinking.

"Shut up," Uryuu snapped in reply to something Ichigo managed to say, his voice a strained mix of agony and frustration. Uryuu continued shooting arrow after arrow, slowly bringing down the pressure in both his and Ichigo's bodies.

The blinding light of the reiatsu decreased, coming to disappear all together. Uryuu fell to his knees at that point, gazing up at the sky. He looked so depressed all of a sudden, like he were on the verge of tears. I wondered what was going through his head, and what he muttered, and why it made Ichigo look like he wanted to sell himself to the circus.

I sighed, shifting forward so that I could lie back on the branch. I followed Uryuu's lead and stared up at the sky, no longer caring about what was going on below me. The show was over; there was nothing left to see.

I closed my eyes, recounting the events of the past few days. Who would have thought life would have fallen out of the ordinary so drastically? And this was only the beginning. I was sure of it.

But I couldn't say I was ready and willing for it.

I breathed in deeply, then exhaled through my nose. Tree branches really weren't as uncomfortable as you would think; the fact that it was a tree branch was the only down side. With the fresh air blowing in through the foliage and the cute little chirping birds to lull you to sleep, it was almost the perfect place for a cat nap. It was really no wonder why cats got stuck in trees so much - they had the right idea, even if they weren't physiologically able to think it through all the way. You got sun, shade, a lullaby, sweet nature smells, and no disturbances, all in one spot. You could just rest the day away without any worries about being bothered.

Unless Urahara needed you for something. Then it didn't matter if you were in a tree or not, because he would find you and get your attention in the most loathsome way possible.

I had just dozed off into a peaceful half slumber, day-dreaming a nice day-dream about a field of flowers, unicorns and little bunny rabbits, when it happened. One minute I was in Lala Land, and the next there was a biting pain in my temple. My eyes snapped open as I bolted into a sitting position, cupping the side of my head in pain.

"Oh, Kita-chan! Down here, my dear!"

A giddy Urahara was waving at the trunk of my tree. My lips curled into a silent snarl. What a fool.

More time had passed than I had noticed, apparently. The world below me was gone back to its mended normal; there were even a few innocent citizens taking a stroll in the park, only to come across Urahara's idiocy. I couldn't blame them for changing their walk to a jog. Think about it: a middle-aged man in the middle of a public place in old-fashioned robes, wooden sandals, and a hat pulled over his face, calling up affectionately to a tree?

I waited until the area had cleared completely before dropping down from the branch, landing on my feet like a pro. If Urahara were a dog, I think he would have been peeing out of enthusiasm.

"Mikita, there you are! You shouldn't run off like that without a word. I was getting really worried about you, and as your loving and generous caregiver you should show more respect-"

Urahara's word were cut off by my fist colliding with his chin. It wasn't exactly bone-breaking force, but it did its job.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" I snapped, making to head home. "You're acting as dweebish as you do every time that stupid cat friend of yours shows up."

At the reference to his feline best (and only) friend, Urahara miraculously healed, catching up to me and chattering away.

"Ah, Yoruichi! I miss that little bugger. I hope the rascal comes back soon. Daddy misses his kitty!"

I scowled and veered away from him. The last thing I needed was for people to think I voluntarily associated with the crazy cat man.

I lost sight of Urahara completely when I turned down another path. (He didn't seem to notice, too distracted with his fondness for fur). It was weird; you'd never know a potentially deadly fight had just taken place. The landscape was somehow unharmed, and the atmosphere had returned to its normal town cheer. That was the way things tended to work, wasn't it? The rest of the world never seemed to reflect the turmoil going on in your own life.

It was annoying. And the turmoil going on in my life was annoying. And, like I said, it was only going to get worse. That was extra annoying.

Life was such a pest. But death was even more of a pest. And being the living dead was the pinnacle of all annoying pests.

(And no, I'm not a vampire. That would just be lame. But if I were a vampire, let it be known that I would be a real one, not a vegetarian, sparkling fairy one. Suck on that, Edward Hairy Nipple.)


	4. Chapter 4

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Four**

* * *

"I'm ready to go, Tatsuki! Give me your best fast ball!" Orihime hollered, getting into position. She was taking it too seriously. Seriously. It was only a stupid gym class game - and a made-up one, at that; I think they called it "base-soccer" or something along those lines. It was played mostly like regular baseball only with a soccer ball, hence the ingenious "base-soccer" dubbing. The ball was also pitched in the form of a kick, since soccer balls weren't really meant to be chucked, so Tatsuki was really the only one with good enough aiming prowess to play the part of pitcher. I didn't really see the point in the game myself, but everyone else seemed to be having fun with it.

I leaned back against the fence a good distance from the group of girls, opting out of our hour of physical education. I never really was much of one for hands-on activities. Besides, to me hitting a soccer ball with a baseball bat sounded like it would take your hands _off_. I was a little amazed that the girls were able to do it so effortlessly.

Tatsuki prepared her pitch. Only, as soon as she swung her leg back, a little sand colored critter scampered into the anticipated path of the ball. I leaned in, squinting towards the scene. My first assumption was that it must have been a squirrel or something, but it was running rather than that gazelle-like hop that was (strangely) typical of rodents.

The mystery animal wasn't fast enough to outrun the ball once Tatsuki let it rip. In practically the blink of an eye the two had molded together, surged towards Orihime, and were then sent soaring into the sky like a thwarted Team Rocket from the force of Orihime's kick.

I tilted my head, watching the two as they disappeared in the clouds. The girls cheered for Orihime's home run, heedless of the crime against Peta. After a second or two I shrugged and resumed my chillaxing, too, figuring that whatever it was it had to be dead after that anyway. No use crying over spilled milk, right?

I had been looking forward to enjoying the latter half of gym class alternating between sunbathing and watching the boys clean up. It was a favorite hobby of mine, watching as other people worked while doing nothing myself. It was especially more enjoyable when the other people who were working were having a hard time and straining while you sat and laughed at their struggle. (Or when they were prime examples of the male species with nice rippling muscles, but unfortunately that wasn't the case in Karakura High). That was what I had planned to do, anyway, until an unwelcomed voice interrupted me.

"You know, the whole point of P.E. is to get some exercise, not sit around. We do that all day in class. Don't you think you could at least do _something_ rather than standing around and being in the way all the time?"

I opened one eye, even though I recognized the boy's voice without needing visual confirmation. And there he was, the hero of Karakura Town. Only, weren't heroes supposed to be kind, strong, brave, and handsome? I mean, this was Ichigo Kurosaki we were talking about. Sure he had the strong part down pretty well, and he wasn't much of a coward when faced with danger. He could be kind when he wanted to be, and he'd be all right looking if he took that ugly scowl off his face. In theory, at least; it was like trying to imagine life with your mouth and anus interchanged.

I guess I had been staring at Ichigo during my analysis, because he was giving me a look as if I were a mutating slug or something.

"Uh, Kame? What's with that face?" Ichigo asked, obviously unnerved by the way I was sizing him up. Funny, he was so calm and confident back when he defeated that menos, but he crumbled just because a girl was giving him attention.

Wanting to see Ichigo squirm a little more, I pretended that I hadn't heard his question and just kept up my study. After a minute I deemed the awkward moment at its optimum and let it drop.

"When did you become a gym teacher, Kurosaki?" I questioned, closing my eyes again. My fingers rolled over each other, playing with my thumb ring.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Just a few minutes ago. You said, quote, 'The whole point of P.E. is to get some exercise,' unquote. Only a gym teacher could authorize what the 'whole point' of the class is. So, what, did you get a gym teaching degree in your spare time, or is it just a future aspiration your working towards? It's not exactly shooting for the stars, but at least you're realistic. Good for you."

I suppressed a smirk when a low growl caught my ear. It was a thing of beauty when pricks like Kurosaki got so worked up over nothing. It really ruined the whole tough guy image.

"You're such a pain in the ass, Kame," Ichigo seethed. I could have bet a billion Jelly Bellies he was blushing, but it would have ruined my tough girl image if I checked. "All you do is sit around all the time, no matter what's going on around you. Why don't you get off your ass and lend a hand every once in a while?"

A tutter dribbled off my my lips like the drool of a kid in front of a cupcake factory. (Or any non-diabetic person in front of a cupcake factory, really). "For one, I'm standing up, not sitting on my ass. And two," I looked him up and down without shame before returning my eyes to his heated head, "you're only holding two soccer balls. Do you really consider that kind of light lifting 'lending a hand'? The only one I see doing something worthwhile is Chad; he's got a whole damn crate on his shoulder! Why don't you go and try that, Kurosaki? Do something like that and I might actually think about listening to whatever moral mumbo-jumbo comes out of your mouth, okay?"

Before Ichigo was able to retort a shadow passed over us, warning us of what turned out to be a dive-bombing Keigo. In no time the boorish brunet was bouncing around on Ichigo's shoulders, legs wound around the taller boy's waist and chest. I wanted to snicker over the less than virtuous thoughts their position put in my head, but I managed to keep my expression uninterested as I gazed at the two as if their behavior was nothing out of the ordinary. The perverse thing was that it genuinely wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

"Workin' it out with the ladies, huh? Man, you're so lucky, Ichigo! First you have that hot new girl following you around everywhere and now you're here putting the moves on Mikita? Finally out playing the field, my man!"

"W-what? No way, Keigo! I was _not_ putting the moves on Mikita. I was trying to _get_ her to move. I was only telling her she should be out doing something like the other girls-"

"Oh, I got 'cha! You were checkin' out Orihime then, huh? She is quite the boobalicious babe! Say, if you asks out Orihime, and I ask out Mikita, we could all go on a double date together! Since we're all best buds it would work out perfectly, am I right? So what d'ya say? We could go for-"

His graphic explanation of the fantastic double date was cut off when he was flung off Ichigo's shoulders, landing in the dirt with a painful sounding thud.

"Hey, I thought I told you to never do that again," Ichigo scolded, baring his fist at his hyper (but grounded for that moment) friend. Keigo wiggled back onto his feet like like his joints were made of Jello-O.

"Right, like you don't know that it's perfectly normal for a teenage boy to be obsessed with hot cuties!" Keigo literally cried.

"Okay, I admit there's nothing wrong with that," Ichigo grumbled, probably more to get Keigo out of his personal space than anything. I watched with a dull face from the sidelines, coming to the conclusion that they had forgotten me standing right there the entire time.

Keigo's faced transformed from upset, to confused, to sly all in a matter of seconds. "Huh? What are you saying? Oh, I get it! Orihime's just not your type!"

Another soccer ball surged into the scene just then, connecting with Keigo's skull.

"Quit all that messing around and get over here to help me out," Mizuiro called to the two, rolling his hips in comical, yet rather disturbing, way.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Ichigo said. And just like that, all three of them left without the smallest glance in my direction. I quirked a brow, feeling only the slightest bit left out. Was I that forgettable?

Before I had much time to wallow in self pity the church-like school bell went off, signaling the end of the period. Whatever I had been thinking about before Ichigo showed up was officially lost, so I pushed off from the fence with a slight grunt and made my way towards the school's entrance. It was on my way there that my attention was caught by a small figure falling out of the sky. Maybe that squirrel wasn't dead after all?

But if the initial experience hadn't killed it, falling out of the sky would. For sure. Too bad, so sad.

"Kame-chan, over here!"

Orihime's arms were outstretched like a toddler imitating and airplane, and her laughing and scampering didn't exactly hinder the simile. I didn't know whether to be envious or disgusted with that child-like innocence. Especially at that point, when you considered everything that had been dumped on her; it was as if the hitherto week hadn't happened at all. You would never be able to guess that Orihime had just found out that she could see invisible monsters, or that her brother had turned out to be one of them.

"You never play with us at gym, Mikita," Orihime pointed out once I (grudgingly) caught up with the group. "How come? Base-soccer is really fun, I promise! You should join in next time."

I crossed my arms over my chest, which was a little awkward to do while we were still walking. "Physical activities aren't really my thing. I'd much rather sun bathe. Preferably on a beach or by a pool or something, but Karakura's not very accommodating that way."

"Don't pay attention to her, Orihime," Tatsuki said, her own arms tucked behind her head. "She's just a lazy spoil sport. That's why when we get older she'll be the one who lives alone hoarding cats."

I scowled. "I resent that. First of all, I don't even like cats, so it would be fifty chinchillas or hedgehogs or something cool like that. And besides, did you see what I just did? I had to jog all the way over here to catch up with you guys. That was plenty of exercise for the day."

"Yeah, that's right," Ichigo pointed out. "I think that ten seconds of jogging was the first time I've ever seen you not sitting or dragging your feet. You must be pretty tired, huh? All that physical strain got you - _damn it_!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I accidentally punch you in the ribs? It must have been a muscle spasm. You know how your body can get when you put so much pressure on it." If you didn't catch the sarcasm in text, let me confirm it right here for you.

There was a tell-tale tingling behind my ears, and I dodged Ichigo's retributive hit just in the nick of time. The dodge was more of an ever-so-casual, gliding leap to the right, and I didn't have any shame at all in basking in the others' collective gasp.

"For someone who doesn't live a very active lifestyle," Mizuiro commented, "Mikita is surprisingly fast and agile."

I smirked. Just because I didn't always have the motion of the ocean didn't mean things had always _been_ that way. Getting in shape may not have been much like riding a bike, but sense training was far less ephemeral than muscle bulk.

* * *

"Uryuu? What in the world happened to you?"

Uryuu took the time to adjust his glasses before responding, giving the class a clear view of his heavily bandaged arm. Both of them, his arms, were wrapped up to the elbow in gauze. He sort of looked like a half-assed mummy on Halloween to me, but I doubted the rest of the class was whispering about his lacking costume abilities.

"I...fell down the stairs," Uryuu answered after a moment, tactfully ignoring the other students. Really, Uryuu? That was the best excuse you could come up with? That was what women with hand shaped bruises said when they wanted people to know they definitely _hadn't_ fallen down the stairs.

I leaned forward on my desk, moving my eyes to take in the Dream Team's reactions - meaning those few souls who actually knew the real reason for Uryuu's tardiness. Ichigo and Rukia seemed to be quarreling with each other, although I couldn't imagine what about; Chad didn't seem to have much of a reaction at all besides trying to remain inconspicuous as possible, which was a pretty hard feat when he was twice their size; Orihime was the only one who became flustered under the pressure. Her eyes darted around the room, as if hoping for someone to pop out of the wall and tell her how to handle thesituation. Her gaze inevitably caught mine, and, while I felt like my attempt was pretty pathetic, I did my best to smile in reassurance.

Orihime and Chad were the only ones who knew of my involvement in all the ghostly business, but both were sworn to secrecy. Not that they had anyone to tell, if you faced the facts. The only people they could have told didn't even know that they, Chad and Orihime, were involved either. So, basically, we were split into two supernatural groups:

Group One: Ichigo, Rukia, and Uryuu

Group Two: Me, Chad, and Orihime.

Only, Group One didn't know anything about Group Two being a supplementary group at all. While Uryuu and Rukia would have sensed the higher than average spiritual pressures in us Group Two-ians, they had too much going on to worry about how much we knew. Probably. It was a bit of a confusing little bubble, but I had faith that it would all work out at the end.

Whether it would work out _well_ or not was an entirely different story.

* * *

"Hey, why don't you look up in that tree?"

My suggestion was as flat as could be, since my empty stomach made it harder than normal to even try to fake charisma. Rukia was apparently important enough that us girls had to hold off eating lunch to search for her. We had been looking in the most random places, too, like the bathroom, behind the dumpster, _in _the dumpster - the list goes on. I was actually joking when I told Mahana to go look up a tree but she did it anyway, not noticing the mocking air in my advice. Her exclamation, then, of, "Look, there she is! Hey Rukia, come on down! Why don't you join us for lunch?" made my eye twitch like a rabid dog's jaw.

Rukia agreed to the invitation made her way down to us. It was later than when I would have liked, but we all did eventually settle in our usual spot. We sat in a circle - we being Tatsuki, Orihime, Chizuru, Ryo, Michiru, Mahana, Rukia, and me - in that order. It was quiet for a minute before Orihime pulled out a rather large slice of what looked like cake. We all knew better.

"Ta-dah!" the stone-stomached she-devil cheered. "It's a choco-jelly-sugar-death-torte! It's eggplant cream sponge cake with green bean-jelly pudding and chocolate frosting!"

Everyone but Rukia and I paled, Rukia seeming to be too out of it for her gag reflex to work while I was examining the food in grotesque wonder. I could see where Orihime got the "death" part of the name from. How did you even get make bean-jelly pudding? Or eggplant spongecake, for that matter? Could you actually buy that kind of thing in a store? And if so, why the hell would you? Who would have thought of that, and what company would have thought it was a good enough idea to mass produce? The only thing edible in Orihime's meal was the chocolate frosting. The chocolate frosting was something I really wanted for myself, actually.

"Ew! How can you eat stuff like that, Orihime?" Tatsuki asked with disgust as she watched Orihime scarf down the choco-jelly-sugar-death-torte.

"I think the question is how does she eat that stuff and not be as big as a blimp!" Michiru popped in.

"I guess her boobs absorb the calories," Ryo said, sounding a little sour, if you asked me. I smirked at the thought.

"Green's not a pretty color on you, Ryo," I said, sounding condescendingly sweet. "No need to use such a tone with Orihime just because she's more naturally gifted in certain aspects of life."

That comment earned me a glare and scowl from the track star and a confused tilt of the head from Orihime. I swear, that girl was so naive sometimes for someone who ranked number three in class. I guess it could be cute, and I could see how the guys (and Chizuru) could find it so, but if I had a Y chromosome the trait would make her way too annoying to date, no matter how true her intentions.

In a complete turn of events, Mahana turned to Rukia, inquiring, "Hey, can I ask you something? Do you have a crush on Ichigo?"

I snickered, failing miserably to contain myself. Just a bit farther and the juice Rukia had spit out would have gotten Ryo soaked.

"H-huh?" Rukia gasped, her face dripping with juice as she faced Mahana, gaping dumbly.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe', but what exactly is your relationship with that guy?" Mahana continued, barely taking notice to the extreme reaction her questioned had produced.

"W-well," Rukia stuttered, hastily grabbing a napkin and dabbing her face. "H-hes my friend!"

"Mahana! That's not the kind of question you ask straight out like that!" Michiru scolded lightly, getting some of the attention off the flustered Rukia. I found myself taking a surprising interest in the conversation. I had never thought of the two like that as if it were a realistic possibility, but what if love really was in the air? Could Ichigo actually have some game in him?

And what would that mean in the long run, all things considered?

"I don't see why not," Mahana countered, no remorse evident. "It's the question you wanted to ask her yourself but none of you were willing to do it, so I just did it for you."

"Hey, just who said I wanted to know anything like that anyway?" Michiru denied, the blush on her cheeks betraying her words.

"Well, I still want to know the answer," Chizuru piped up.

"What do you have against Ichigo anyway, Michiru?" Tatsuki cut in, defending two friends at once. The conversation was starting to give me whip lash.

Michiru played with her fingers, not making eye contact. "It's not that I have anything against him, it's just that I think there's something scary looking about his face, that's all."

Orihime blinked, sending a smile in Michiru's direction. "Scary looking? Well, I don't think so! I like his face."

"Really? You must have changed your mind, then, because I knew you used to be afraid of him, too."

"Well," Mahana intruded again, her voice a notch higher than the others' and startling the poor, spacing Rukia. "What's the story, Rukia?

Every one of us - minus Ryo, who had her faced glued in a book and took no interest in the discussion - huddled around Rukia. She was close enough to me that I only had to turn my head, so I was thankful that I didn't have to act like a gossip-hungry loser.

"Well," Rukia began, realizing that no one was going to let her go without an answer. "Ichigo and I are..." Her voice was low, and the others crowded even closer, oblivious to her discomfort and steadily saddening spirit. Before they could begin to suspect her, though, she picked her head up with a wide smile, declaring, "Ichigo and I are just friends! That's all there is to it!"

A collective groan rose in the air.

"For real?"

"Yes!"

"You mean you don't feel anything special for him, not even at all?"

"No, there is nothing else going on!"

"Come on Rukia, you know you can tell us if you-"

"Let the girl breathe," I snapped. The interruption was surprising even to me, but I played it off as if it wasn't and attributed the involuntary action to annoyance. "If she says there's nothing going on, then there's nothing going on. Don't be pests."

Thankfully, everyone sighed and sat back down. Orihime stared off thoughtfully.

"That's too bad for us girls," she voice after a moment. "If Rukia liked Ichigo, like me, that would mean there'd be two of us and there'd be so much to talk about. And if Tatsuki or Mikita decided they liked Ichigo, then pretty soon we'd all probably start liking him, and we could sit around and talk about all the reasons we like him and it would be a sure win for the girls team!"

There was an empty silence.

"Someone stop her before her nonsense starts to make sense to me," Tatsuki said, exasperated.

"I...don't get it," I admitted, trying to grasp how all of the girls liking the same guy would be a good thing. Not to mention boys weren't exactly Chizuru's cup of tea.

"Hey," the lesbo herself mused, rubbing her chin like your typical sleaze bag. "It's actually not a bad idea to have an affection competition." Her whole demeanor changed with a snap as she jumped to her feet, ripping off her tie and beginning to unbutton her blouse. "So let's start with a one-on-one! Or better yet, a threesome! Just us! Give it to me!"

And she got it alright. Tatsuki's fist in her gut, I mean.

"Not exactly...what I had in mind..." Chizuru croaked, falling to the ground and withering in pain.

"Just give it a rest, Chizuru!" Tatsuki growled, resuming her disciplining.

The rest of us just laughed it off and turned our backs on the two. Orihime faced Rukia as if nothing had happened at all. I had a feeling she literally didn't know that anything had happened at all.

"Anyway, Rukia," she said, "I'll bring you some of my other yummy desserts so that you can try them yourself! Then we can enjoy them together!"

Rukia rubbed her cheek, offering, "Okay, I'll think about it."

"Aw, that's not fair!" Orihime whined, waving her arms in a windmill fashion. "That's the same thing you said to me last time! You keep saying that, Rukia. _'I'll think about it.' _" Orihime imitated Rukia's voice badly with a deeper tone and wagging finger.

"Oh, really?" Rukia asked on edge, fiddling with her napkin. "I guess I do."

I dropped interest after that and scanned the group, seeing that I had been the only one who had still been paying attention to Orihime or Rukia in the first place. Ryo had her nose stuffed in that book, Mahana and Michiru had branched off into their own separate chatter, and Tatsuki was busy beating the stuffing out of Chizuru.

My gaze somehow found its way up to the roof, where the boys were eating their lunch. The orange head of Ichigo jumped out at me immediately, eliminating the need to search far and wide. I saw that he seemed to be in some kind of yelling match with one of the others. Weird, he didn't usually get that worked up about stuff the other guys did. Except for...

"Uryuu?" I questioned to myself. Unfortunately, my voice, no matter how soft, had caught Orihime's attention.

"Hm? What did you say, Kame-chan?"

I snapped out of it, turning to face her with a small smile. "Oh, it's nothing. I just noticed that Uryuu was eating lunch with Kurosaki and the others. It's odd, though, since he always eats alone."

The rest of the girls (who, to my horror, had joined up again) looked to the roof, as if feeling the need to confirm my claim before responding. Seeing that Uryuu was, in fact, there on the roof, they all turned back to me as a body.

"Yeah, that's definitely Uryuu alright," Mahana commented, making me roll my eyes. "But he really doesn't seem to be getting along with the other boys, does he? I wonder why he sat up there. Why, do you like him or something, Mikita?"

My reaction was the same as Rukia's when she was asked if she liked Ichigo, only this time my juice really did soak Ryo.

I ignored Ryo's squeals and answered Mahana. "Of course not. I was just making an observation."

"Gross, Kame!" Ryo shouted. "You got your saliva infested juice all over my book! You'll be paying for a new one, you know!"

I continued to act as if I couldn't hear her, leaning back with my arms holding me up from behind.

"Besides, I always kind of saw Uryuu and Ryo together," I divulged, looking to the clouds. "They're both the top of the class, book nerds, and jerks. I think they'd make a compatible couple."

"_What_? Take that back right now, Kame, unless you want to die! You can't hide from me; I run the hundred meters in twelve seconds flat, you know!"

I snorted and took a bite of food. As if a mere mortal like her could hurt me. She had no idea what she was dealing with.

No, really.

* * *

"Oh, damn. You're back."

Black cats were bad luck. Even if they weren't black, cats were still descendents of man-eating monsters. I didn't like cats in general, but I hated one in particular more than any other. This particular black one that found its way to the shouten from time to time. A black one who brought the worse luck in the world to all who saw it. Yoruichi.

The cat responded to my voiced observation with an ever-so-_innocent_ meow, sitting there in the middle of the doorway like it was a one beast police force. I was at a total loss. Should I just kick it and run for my life? But I was no Ryo in her "I run the hundred meters in twelve seconds flat" glory. I could resort to backing away slowly and spend the night in the shed or something instead, if it came down to it. After all, who needs a bed, right? Roughin' it in the wilderness was fun. Why else would people go camping? Not because they were feline-locked out of their modern day homes, for sure.

But then my pride kicked in. Was I really going to let a cat of all things beat me, after everything else I had faced? It wasn't even half way up to my knee. Sure, maybe evolution was on its side, what with the sharp claws and jagged teeth and rabies, but I was both smarter and bigger. It was a pet, and I was its master.

Hell. Yes.

Straightening up, I hardened my stare in defiance. I could swear it gave me a questioning look before accepting my challenge and glaring right back.

"Move," I ordered, as stern as a, uh, stern. Like a ship, you know?

The animal didn't even flinch. The only movement came from the flickering of its tail. I realized in that moment that of all things in the world, it was this cat that I would never be able to beat.

"Please?" I asked instead. Groveling to a cat, honestly. Could anyone, anywhere, sink any lower?

The meowing machine stared for me a little longer, as if debating whether or not it should allow my passage. One of its lives was gone by the time it stood, stepped a few paces over to the right, and sat back down. I gave it a salute and marched by. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, I guess. Lesson learned.

Once in my room I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted from the long, overly active day. I didn't exactly plan to fall asleep, since I was more lazy than tired, but I closed my eyes and was out before I even knew it.

Dreams of sugar plums and candy canes danced across my mind (which was weird seeing as it wasn't anywhere near Christmas). But somewhere during twilight, before night had fully fallen, a foreboding tingle ran down my spine. It had only lasted a second, but it was powerful enough to send me jolting up and away from my thoughts of jolly old men (Santa Clause, not Urahara). I calmed down some when I realized it wasn't anything immediately affecting me but there was something major out there somewhere, for sure. No doubt it involved Ichigo and Rukia in some way, too. How much trouble could those two get into? How much until they finally faced something they couldn't handle?

And what was going to happen once they finally did find that one piece of trouble that they couldn't handle?

* * *

[**Third Person Subjective POV**]

Rukia took one last look at the Kurosaki home before she forced herself to turn away, taking off at a run with what few possessions she'd tucked away in a small backpack. As she got retreated from the home and clinic two men vaporized in mid-air above it, standing on nothing at all. They hovered above the streets, both wearing matching black robes; one, though, whore a white hoari and pale green scarf, two articles of authority. The other, a man with tribal-like tattoos and a flame of red hair, crouched at the other's side, his dark glasses hiding his eyes.

"Rear appearance match, 133. Neutral attachment ratio, 88.5," the crouched man recited, fingering the side of his lenses. Once business had been taken care of his professional face gave way to a wicked smirk, his tone taken over with hubris.

"Are you _serious_? I never expected to find her in a gigai! And here I thought the Imaging Agency's information was useless, but they were actually right. Rukia Kuchiki." He murmured her name, lifting the goggles to rest on his forehead. A mocking-and-menacing grin came across his face as he sing-songed, "We found you."

Just as quickly as they had appeared the two vanished, playing cat to Rukia's mouse. There was one other person bore witness to the scene, though, who hesitated before playing dog to the mens' cat.

And from there, the game had begun.


	5. Chapter 5

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Five**

* * *

[**Third Person Subjective POV**]

"Passing your soul reaper powers to a human is a grave sin," a scarlet haired soul reaper hissed, pressing his blade closer to a seemingly paralyzed Rukia. The streets of Karakura were shadowed under that stars, three not-quite humans the only conscious souls in the vicinity; the verbal and physical assault of the small, gigai clad ex-reaper had escaped the ears of any real humans.

"Be glad the higher-ups were compassionate and let us handle this instead of the Execution Squad," the offending shinigami, Renji, went on. His captain, Byakuya, was a statue in the background, feeling no sympathy for his adopted sister. "Now tell us where this human is, Rukia. It's over. We're taking you in and then we're going to find the human who stole your powers and kill him. Don't even try to protect him. You know what just happened. The only reason you dodged my attacks was because I let you dodge them. The next move I make with this blade will be fatal."

Renji didn't wait very long for a response, skipping right ahead to narrowing his eyes and drawing back his zanpakutou, preparing to strike.

Another's voice spoke out before he could do deal the blow, but it didn't belong to any Kuchiki.

"You know, it's kind of sexist of you to just assume that this human she gave her powers to is a 'him', don't you think?" The tone was feminine, but that was only half of the reason that the two youngest heads turned in surprise; neither of them had sensed any one else in the area, let alone anyone with enough reishi to be communicating with them.

The mysterious girl smirked slightly from her post on a nearby railing, catching the horror in Rukia's expression and the pure perplexity in the red-head's. She didn't bother looking at the captain's face, choosing to treat him as if he wasn't even there, for whatever reason. She sighed, although it was hard to tell what sort of emotion was behind it, and hopped off from her safe seat, strolling towards the trio.

Renji got over his shock first, his gaze turning enrage as he removed his sword from Rukia's direction and pointed it towards the newcomer instead. "It was you! You're the one who took her powers!" he hollered, voice full of disgust. The accused mocked a smile in response, tilting her head to the side and snickering.

"Maybe..."

Rukia missed the point of the distraction and bolted to Renji's other side, placing herself between him and the young woman - in the line of fire yet again. "No! Renji, don't attack her. I don't even know how she can see us but please, leave her be. This doesn't concern her. She's not the one you're looking for."

The lieutenant stared down at Rukia with a blank face, obviously noting the begging sincerity in her words. The brunette on the side lines raised an eyebrow before sighing again, rolling a pair of turquoise eyes. She regarded the pair of them, Renji and Rukia, and seeming to have no concern at all that a rather muscular man with a very sharp weapon was on the verge of slicing someone in half.

Renji's attention was reclaimed then and he glare, but curiosity shone through his anger.

"Just who the hell are you, Girl? If you're not the one who stole Rukia's powers, then what are you doing here? Obviously you can see us, but what's with the 'I couldn't give a damn' attitude? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You should leave while you still have the chance. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

Renji received a snort. "Jeez, you soul reapers just keep getting dumb and dumber and dumberer as more time goes by. My name's Mikita, though, if you think your head can handle remembering it."

It wasn't the reaction the red-head was looking for. He grit his teeth in annoyance, full out snarling as he darted past Rukia, his fury driving his zanpakutou straight at the unnamed female with professional, killer accuracy.

"No!"

Rukia's frantic plea echoed across the empty streets. Her eyes were wide and full of fear; no more innocent people were supposed to be harmed because of her. That was the point her running away. It wasn't her world, and it never would be.

The dust cleared, revealing Renji hunched over and rigid. Rather than standing over a bloody corpse, an empty space was before him, his own zanpakutou missing from his hand and pressed to his neck instead. Mikita stood behind him, her stance locked in place but unsteady, as if running on muscle memory from a time when there was more muscle _to hold _that memory.

Mikita's expression, too, was contradicting itself, flickering back and forth between uncaring and unsettled as she held Zabimaru against his wielder's neck. She looked down at the sword with a dull interest, turning the blade over slightly to observe it from different angles, making light reflect from the metal in shifting patterns across her skin. Renji seemed too stunned to even move, let alone try to escape. How in the hell could some human managed to not only dodge his attack, but corner him - with his own zanpakutou? One minute he was about an inch from gutting her, and the next _he_ was the guppy. Just who was this girl?

Renji turned his head slowly, wary of his vulnerable position. "What the hell are you?" he muttered. Mikita switched her gaze from Zabimaru's blade to him, her face devoid of emotion, to start. But then she smiled slightly, the sentiment as devoid of sincerity as Renji was of the upper hand, and brought Zabimaru away from Renji's flesh. She lifted the weapon instead, brandishing it some.

"Rukia was right about one thing, you know," Mikita said, making casual conversation in one of the least casual situations possible. "I'm no one you need to worry about. I just got a funny feeling and was curious, so I decided to come check it out. This is a really nice sword, by the way. He's pretty powerful, but you haven't mastered him yet, right? This Zabimaru..."

Renji's eyes just about popped out, and he choked on his already ragged breath. Rukia seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, watching pale-faced and terrified as the girl she had thought of as a simple classmate all these weeks defied every assumption she had made. Mikita barely gave off any spiritual pressure and had always stayed out of the way; Rukia had never suspected a thing. Being able to see spirits was one thing, but everything that was unfolding was something completely off the charts. It was unbelievable. Impossible.

Mikita looked up from her scrutiny of Renji's zanpakutou, her eyes shifting from Rukia to Renji. Her smirk widened and gained a bit of genuine amusement as she swung Zabimaru around and used the sword as a sort of cane, the tip of his blade becoming wedged in the asphalt while she leaned on his hilt. She settled her focus solely on Renji, her stare expectant. Renji ran with the silent encouragement and choked out, "How did you know his name?"

Mikita gave a small chortle, using the hand that wasn't holding herself up to scratch the back of her neck. "That's an easy one - I just asked him." She brought Zabimaru up in one motion, flipping him in her hand and startling Renji and Rukia in the process.

"Here," Mikita said, tossing Zabimaru back to his rightful owner. Renji managed to catch him out of reflex, but his mind was miles away.

Mikita stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and swung her weight around, making her way back to the rail to reclaim her previous seat. She smiled when she saw she was still the center of attention and waved a hand forward.

"Don't stop on my account," she insisted. "I'm only here for the show. It's been a while since I've seen a good fight, so I hope I'm not disappointed. Like Rukia said before, this ain't my beef. I won't interfere in the slightest, scout's honor. Well, scrap that. I never got around to being a Girl Scout so that swear really means nothing, but you get the point. Just keep at it like I'm not even here. Go on, continue."

No one heeded her request, at first. Renji could only continue to stare, his eyes widened to their fullest extent and his pupils shrunken to their minimum. He was lost. The only thing he was sure of with some certainty was that this girl (whatever the hell and whoever the hell she was) had just gotten the chance to kill him. She gave off barely any reiatsu at all, yet it had been so simple for her to dodge his advance and turn the tables - like he was some kind of amateur. Granted he hadn't been going full out, but it still should have been more than enough to over power her. Renji didn't like feeling upstaged, not at all. Especially not by some snarky human girl.

Rukia was the first to recover, stepping forward and calling out Renji's name. He snapped his head towards her, having forgotten about her being there for the moment. But then it all came back to him like a ton of bricks; all of this was about Rukia, not the human. He was here to bring back Rukia and kill that bastard who had caused her trouble. He could take care of the girl when he was done with his mission.

That stunt before, Renji decided, was only a fluke. Mikita just surprised him, that was all. He'd underestimated her. He was confident that if he just kept his focus he could kill her without a problem. She might have had a few tricks up her sleeves, but there was no way she could beat a lieutenant. He needed to think about Rukia, first and foremost.

Mikita fell from Renji's mind. He stood to his full height, facing Rukia and letting his body language express what he had been trying to say: that she didn't have a chance or a hope against him. Rukia remained as composed as possible in her vulnerable position.

"Mikita is right," the Kuchiki heiress said. "I'm still not sure what's going on here, but do I know that it doesn't concern her. This is between the two of us, Renji."

Renji smirked, his cockiness coming back without a hitch. "Well said, Rukia. I'll make sure to take care of you first, then kill the girl and go after the real human scum with your soul reaper powers."

In the background, Mikita scoffed.

Renji moved towards Rukia in slow motion, bringing his blade over his head in position for attack. His grin grew at the worried glaze Rukia's eyes took on as she backed away from him, matching each of his advancing steps with one away. The game got old fast, and Renji accelerated the action, leading the two into bona fide battle. After only a few, fast-paced moves, Rukia was reduced to her knees.

"This is it." Renji sneered, keeping Rukia pinned under his stare as he stood above her. He didn't hesitate to pull his sword back, wanting to deliver the final blow and finish his task. The point wasn't to kill or seriously injure Rukia, but just to subdue her enough to bring her home, where she belonged. He would take his real anger out on those meddling humans who had caused Rukia all of the trouble in the first place.

Before Renji could carry out his plan, his Spider Senses started tingling, barely giving him the notice he needed to dodge a blast of blue energy. His lips pulled up a growl while he searched the darkness behind him for the offender. A faint, human outline was one the horizon, and the person spoke up, leaving little doubt that that they were responsible.

"Two armed men attacking two defenseless young girls? I have to tell you, it's not a pretty sight," the incoming male said, taking smooth strolls closer to Ground Zero. He soon made it into the light of the street lamp. While his face was still shadowed, he took a moment to adjust the rectangular lenses he wore. "I don't know, it just isn't my style. Know what I mean?"

Mikita snorted again, muttering, "Oh, great, it's Uryuu. Now we're saved." The boy twitched at her remark but otherwise showed no signs of having heard her.

The only one less enthused about Uryuu's arrival was Renji. "Okay, so you can see us, too. Now tell me, who the hell are _you_?" the lieutenant snapped. Humans just kept coming in like flies and it was really starting to piss him off. If he kept getting distracted, the would-be simple mission was going to take all night.

Uryuu adjusted his glasses again as he let a small 'hmph' escape from his lips, answering, "Just a classmate."

"'Just a classmate', huh?" Renji repeated skeptically, mockingly.

"One who hates soul reapers," Uryuu finished, his tone cold and confident. At this confession Byakuya made his first movement of the evening, moving to flank his assistant captain. Rukia recognized the significance of this and forced herself to her feet.

"Ishida, what are you doing here?" she whispered harshly, hoping he'd get the message that he wasn't welcomed. Uryuu, though, refused to give up that easily.

"Just passing by," he announced for all to hear, without a hint of shame or hesitation. "Nothing for you to worry about. But if you must know, I had a sudden urge to go to Sunflower Seeds - this all night thread shop I know of - so I happened to be out on a stroll this evening and came across your little party." He held up a small shopping bag for proof. "I mean, come on, it's not like I sensed the presence of soul reapers in the city and then ran off into the night carrying a bag of needles and thread with me to use as an excuse when I finally caught up with you."

The two women and Renji had on incredulous faces. Mikita laughed dryly after a moment, no real humor in her voice as she shook her head.

"Damn, Uryuu, you really need to work on getting some more believable excuses. That was just sad. I mean, is there really such thing as a 24 hour thread store? What a waste of electricity."

Uryuu shot the girl a very brief glance before turning back to the others and bringing his fingers up to his glasses. Again. It was a nervous habit, showing itself even when he seemed so cool on the outside.

"Although, I understand if you're a bit skeptical," Uryuu concluded a little too late, trying and failing to save himself. The temporary light-heartedness was shattered by a shot of reiatsu that sliced Uryuu's shopping bag in half, snagging his arm in the process. Uryuu stiffened as blood began to ooze out from the cut, sinking into the bandages he still had from his last fight.

"Hey," Renji growled, "I just asked you a question. I said, who the hell are ya, Kid?" Renji made no attempt to hide his impatience. Uryuu just grunted slightly, a cross between confusion and stubbornness.

"Hey, that's fine," Renji continued when he figured that Uryuu wasn't going to answer. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to." As he spoke, he pulled his zanpakutou off of its lax position on his shoulder and held it before him. "We can just skip ahead to the part when I kill you."

Rukia took this as her cue, darting to stand protectively in front of Uryuu as she had with Mikita.

"Wait a minute, Renji. They've got nothing to do with-"

"Just what are you talking about," Uryuu said in a frosty tone, stepping out from behind Rukia. "I already gave you an answer. As I already told you, I'm a classmate of both Rukia's and Mikita's. And I hate soul reapers!"

"Well, I don't care much for your answer, so why don't you try again?" Renji demanded, his tone full of danger. The two men stared one another down. Uryuu was the one to resign, albeit grudgingly.

"Uryuu Ishida. It's a pleasure."

Renji's anger seemed to stifle for a moment as he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. "Huh? What's with you all of a sudden?"

Uryuu, again, brought a hand up to his face to adjust his frames, answering, "Well, I just thought you had a right to know. You may be a soul reaper, but you should know the name of the one who's about to kill you."

Renji didn't react for a moment, his face blank in the wake of the threat. Rukia grew visibly more anxious, but Mikita's curiosity piqued.

The sword in Renji's hand began to shake, his lips quivering just as much. Soon, his mouth widened into an almost psychotic grin. "That settles it," he decided aloud, all signs of anger vanishing and being replaced with pure thrill. "I'm going to cut you in half."

Mikita seemed to take that as _her_ cue and she slid off of the rail, making for the direction Uryuu had arrived from. All of the others immediately took notice, turning to her retreating form.

"And just where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Renji demanded, following her with his eyes but keeping Zabimaru pointed towards Uryuu. Mikita paused and craned her neck to look at him over her shoulder, offering a soft scowl.

"You told me not too long ago that I should leave while I still had the chance, so I am. There was nothing good on TV so I thought I could come watch a live action show, but this is all getting a little too intense for me.

"Good luck, Uryuu, although I really don't expect to see you at school anymore, if you know what I mean. Oh, and Rukia? I'm sorry about not being much help, but since I really don't know you very well I'm not willing to risk my life against these guys for you. Thanks for sticking up for me, though. Anyway, see ya around...or not."

With those final words Mikita made her leave, leaving the rest in the hands of fate.

"Smart ass brat," Renji commented once she was out of sight. Inwardly he vowed to hunt her down later; the nerve of her to think that he would let her go that easily! But at the moment there were far more important things to take care of than proving a point to his pride.

Renji turned back to Rukia and Uryuu. "Now where were we?"

* * *

"I don't get it. I mean, she doesn't even give a reason for leaving," Ichigo mumbled, reading Rukia's farewell note over.

"Don't you understand? Something must have happened!" Kon exclaimed. The plush toy was more worried than Ichigo, probably because he better understood the degree of danger Rukia could have been facing if his theory was correct. "She said to burn the letter and keep ourselves hidden. What could be so terrible that got Rukia so worried about us? Isn't it obvious? Something's happened between her and the Soul Society!"

Ichigo stiffened, looking as if he was finally starting to take Kon's input to heart.

"Use your head a little," the mod soul scolded. "Rukia's in the middle of something and she doesn't want us involved, so she...she struck out on her own!"

While Ichigo absorbed this fact, Kon turned theatric. "Poor Rukia," he muttered, wiping the tears from his eyes. It was funny how a stuffed animal could still form tears, even though it didn't have real eyes or insides. "What if she's, uh, dead...?"

"That's enough!" Ichigo growled, turning his back to the lion and glaring at his bedroom floor. "We can't just go jumping to conclusions, okay? Let's just think for a minute. All of this yammering isn't going to help us solve anything."

Kon allowed the lapse in discussion, but he wasn't able to sit quietly for too long. "Ichigo?" he questioned, only to be ignored. Ichigo took a step forward instead, away from Kon, and pinned the empty space in front of him under a steely stare.

"Let's go, Kon," the substitute decided. "I'm changing into a reaper and finding Rukia."

"Alright, I'm with ya, Buddy!" Kon's enthusiasm dwindled, however, when he realized that there was only one way for Ichigo to turn reaper without Rukia around. "Uh, you mean...again?"

"I don't have another choice. I've got to get that gikongon out of your belly," Ichigo stated.

And then the frenzy began.

"No, wait!"

"Knock it off, I don't have time for this!"

"AHHH!"

"Rukia's in danger right now, and I can't do anything to help her unless I'm a soul reaper!"

Kon could only last so long against a fully grown human, so he inevitably found himself wedged between Ichigo's legs, deep-throating the boy's fingers. It was impossible to count the number of ways the scene could be taken as X-Rated.

"This sucks just as bad for me as it does for you, you idiot!" Ichigo snapped. He was raping both Kon and the art of soothing.

In the midst of the action, a man's voice cut in from the window. "Hello there."

Ichigo startled, looking over his shoulder at the intruder. Urahara had, at some point and in some way, made himself at home on the window sill.

"Boy, it looks to me like you're in quite the bind this evening," the sea goat said, treating the situation like a leisurely chat over tea and biscuits. "Is there anything I can do to help speed things along here?"

"Or we should just sit back and enjoy," a female's voice countered. A brunette with bright turquoise eyes was standing in the doorway. Since when? "These two are more entertaining than watching Rukia and Uryuu get beat."

Ichigo's body gave a violent twitch. Not only was some freaky shop keeper peeping on him, but one of his classmates, too? And not just any classmate - a female classmate. An attractive female classmate. An attractive female classmate who was in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning witnessing him wrestle with a stuffed lion in his pajamas. Could his life get any worse?

Ichigo pretty much wanted to die. "What the hell are you two doing here? And you - Kame! How the hell did you get in my house?"

The young woman blinked once, fingering her ear piercings.

"Oh, uh, your sister let me in," she answered, shrugging it off and inspecting a small glob of earwax on her fingernail with little interest.

"Oh, yeah?" Ichigo sneered. "Which one of my sleeping sisters opened the door?"

Mikita snorted, putting on a show of offense. "The...short one..."

Ichigo grinned, pointing an carping finger at the girl when she avoided eye contact. "Ha, so you admit it! You broke in here, didn't you?" But the idea made him freeze and lower his hand. "Wait a sec, why did you break into my house anyway? That's against the law, you know; I could call the cops!"

Mikita scowled. "Yeah, go take the time to call the police. It's not like you have anything else more important to do. I'm sure Rukia isn't in the middle of being assaulted right now, so you don't have to worry about anything like that. Hey, while you're reporting me maybe you can ask them to help Rukia. Besides the fact that they have no idea about the Soul Society's existence, won't be able to see anyone involved, and are completely useless to current situation, they're perfect for the job. So yes. Go do that."

Ichigo frowned, re-reminded of just how severe the situation was. But there was something else odd about the whole thing.

"Mikita...how do _you_ know about the Soul Society? Are you telling me that you can see spirits?"

Mikita nodded, straightening up and growing more somber. "Of course, but we don't have time for my life story right now. You need to get to Rukia. Like, now. So just sit back, shut up, and let Kisuke jam you in the face with his cane."

Ichigo put on an incredulous expression. "What the hell do you mean jam me in the face with his cane?" He turned around to face Urahara. If he wanted a verbal answer, then the cane to the face he got must have been a painful disappointment. "Damn it! What the hell was that for?"

"Man, you're so loud, Kurosaki," Mikita grumbled, glaring at his body as it fell to the ground. He stood in soul reaper form in the middle of the room, rubbing his nose.

"You could have at least given me some kind of warning!" Ichigo snapped. On the sidelines, Mikita rolled her eyes.

"Geez, and this is the amazing reaper I've been hearing so much about?" she said. "How can we expect him to take out two real, high-ranking shinigami when he cries over a poke on the nose?"

Ichigo turned to send a snarl towards Mikita, causing an innocent smile to pop up on her face. "Shut up, Kame! I don't see you doing anything worth while around here, so I wouldn't be talking!"

"Ichigo, pull yourself together and pay attention," Urahara said, losing his lackadaisical air. It was the sudden severity that calmed Ichigo down. "You need to go and save Rukia and Uryuu. The two soul reapers they sent from the Soul Society are no pushovers. It's a captain and a lieutenant of the Thirteen Protection Squads. They'll be tough, and you're going to need to be at your best and in control if you want to get through this. Now, I trust you'll be able to find your way yourself. Mikita's already there, so you could always try to follow her spirit energy if you need to."

"What the hell are you talking about? Kame's right back there," Ichigo claimed, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder and choosing to ignore that fact that he couldn't sense spirit energy.

Urahara gave a sly smile, advising, "Why don't you take another look, Ichigo."

Ichigo rolled his eyes in annoyance but swiveled around, only to be greeted by an empty hallway. His eyes widened and he scanned the room.

"Huh? Kame? Where the hell did she go? Hey, Mr. Hat-and-Clogs, where'd she run off to?" Ichigo asked, turning around to face the older man. He was greeted by an empty window.

There was a moment of silent shock, but it soon gave way to an eruption.

"Damn them!" Ichigo fumed. "First they break into my house and bust my skull open, then they both go and disappear on me? What the hell's wrong with them?"

With a complete and utterly uncharacteristic scowl on his face, Ichigo snivelled unintelligible things, forgetting about the reason he received the visit in the first place. It was Kon who stepped in and set him straight.

"Ichigo! What are you doing just standing around? You heard what the old man and foxy maiden said. Get your ass out there and save Rukia!"

Ichigo was whipped back into shape with those words, his expression becoming set in determination. "Right," the teen agreed, grabbing the hilt of his sword and leaping out the window. Kon was left alone in the empty room, staring after his self-proclaimed best friend.

When the room settled, Kon sighed. It was tough to just sit around while something big was going on beyond your reach. Kon got over the anxiety quickly, though, making himself comfortable on Ichigo's bed by sprawling out.

"What did they say her name was?" he mused. "Kame-san, I think the Ichigo called her..." Kon pondered the girl who had, just minutes ago, been visiting his (only technically not _his_) humble abode. Mikita had certainly caught the little lion's eye, making him fade out of the threes' conversation at the most pivotal point.

Even in the middle of chaos, a grin broke out across Kon's cotton face. "Not quite as cushioned as my Orihime, but I'll take her! I hope she comes to visit me again soon. Or maybe I could pay her a little house call...Yes, yes. I think that's a brilliant idea..."


	6. Chapter 6

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Six**

* * *

[**Third Person Subjective POV**]

"Well, well. Looks like you were nothin' but talk," Renji commented with a sneer. Uryuu was in no state to retort, his hubris having flowed out of him with the blood that puddled at his knees. Rukia may not have been as physically injured, but her mind was stupefied. Was this man really Renji? Her Renji?

Renji advanced towards the two of them, his zanpakutou at the ready. "Now then, let's finish this off, shall we? Remember this as you depart from this world: Renji Abarai is the name of the man who killed you!"

"Hold on," Rukia cried, hoping that her childhood friend would be willing to hear her out. Renji, however, didn't react to her in the slightest. He went on to push reiatsu into his blade so that it glowed green, and then brought it down on Uryuu's defenseless form.

"Pleasure knowing you," the lieutenant barked, showing no signs of remorse as he carried out the execution. But before his sword could make contact with the quincy's body a powerful burst of spiritual energy cut through the concrete directly under his feet, forcing Renji back as the ground was ripped apart. The shinigami took a flying leap, landing a distance from his two sitting ducks.

The attacker made himself known without delay. Ichigo stepped onto the set without fear, his stony stare set on Zabimaru's wielder.

Renji's eyes were anything but friendly when they landed on Ichigo. His patience was truly on its last leg. "Who in hell's name are you?"

"The name's Ichigo Kurosaki," Ichigo introduced with his ever present frown. "I'm the one's who's gonna beat your ass. How's it goin'?"

There was a snort as Mikita entered as well, emerging from the shadows and coming to a halt beside the crippled Uryuu. "How many times had that line been used now? The next person who says it is getting a Wet Willy, I swear."

Her warning was ignored. Renji changed positions, moving over to the railing Mikita had been perched on earlier to get a better look at Ichigo.

"Wearing a shihakushou?" the pineapple-head observed aloud. "I don't know you, what squad are you from?"

Rather than responding, Ichigo lifted his sword to rest against his shoulder, feigning nonchalance. His move only heightened Renji's interest.

"And look at that overgrown zanpakutou," Renji remarked after a mocking scoff.

Ichigo took no visible offence, commenting dryly, "Oh yeah? So your saying I've got a big one, huh?"

On the sidelines, Mikita stuffed her fist to her mouth. After a quick scan of the company, she realized she was the only one immature enough to catch - or at least care - about the innuendo, given the current state of utmost seriousness. Oh, well.

"It's funny," Ichigo continued. "To tell you the truth, I've been thinking this thing looked kinda big against Rukia's blade. But you know, I've gotta say, up until now I didn't have anything else to compare it to."

Renji backed off very slightly, sinking down into a squat and engaging Ichigo in a stare-down. "The size of it reflects the Soul Reaper's spirit energy. How did a snot-nose brat get a sword that size?"

After asking the question, Renji went to work putting the pieces together for himself. His gaze fell on Rukia, who stood stiff and gaping. Her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"Oh, I get it," Renji murmured, catching the girl's attention. His eyes narrowed and shot back to Ichigo. "You're the lowly human who took Rukia's powers, aren't ya, Carrot-Top?"

Ichigo didn't see what the big deal was, and so he didn't answer right away. He knew that Rukia had accidentally passed most of her powers onto him, but why would this guy care?

Before Ichigo could think any more about it, an enraged Renji sprang forward, letting out a battle cry. Ichigo managed to bring his sword up in time to block the attack. The size of his blade alone came in handy against a crazed man trying to slash him in half for no obvious reason, it seemed.

Renji looked liked someone who was completely out of his mind at that moment, in a very literal sense. He wore a huge, maniacal grin as he hacked at Ichigo again and again, raising the hair on most of the company's skin. Not only was Renji strong, but he didn't have control over his emotions. He fought without any self-control, and that just made him all the more dangerous.

"What's wrong? Is that big sword just for show? Huh? Huh?"

Renji crashed his sword against Ichigo's without relent, using all of his strength with each cut. Ichigo was losing his grip as well; he had expected a fight, but this guy was just fooling around with him, trying to provoke him.

And it worked.

Ichigo's tolerance ran dry and he finally fought back. He overpowered the brutality of Renji's attacks and forced the shinigami back, pouring blue-ish reiatsu into his sword and taking a swipe at Renji. The only thing hit was the pavement as Renji dodged out of the way, though, shooting up into the air directly above Ichigo and coming down before the freshman even knew what had happened.

The artificial Soul Reaper tensed before dropping to his knees. It seemed as if nothing had happened at first; there was a delay between the fall and the gush of blood that sprayed out from his shoulder. Ichigo grit his teeth, clutching the wound with his free hand while his other kept a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword.

"Ichigo!" Rukia shrieked. She took a step forward, but Uryuu's hand on her ankle kept her anchored in place.

"It's over," Renji said after a short break. He had both visually and audibly calmed, watching Ichigo with a passive face. "Very soon you'll be dead, and Rukia will get her powers back. And then, Rukia will go back to the Soul Society and die. Your two friends over here will die as well. They'll be dealt with once you're finished off."

He said it all so carelessly, as if he were reading off a grocery list rather than taking lives. It struck a chord with Mikita.

"So that's it, huh?" she asked, drawing everyone's attention. "You kill Ichigo so that Rukia will be able to get her shinigami powers back, just so she can go on to live as a prisoner for a few weeks until she's put to death herself? And then Uryuu and me will just be disposed of like moldy bread? It seems like you're taking a lot of unnecessary lives here. What ever happened to Soul Reapers being for the protection of humans against hollows? It looks more like you're doing the hollow's dirty work yourselves here, if you ask me."

Renji's grip on Zabimaru's hilt tightened, but he didn't bring the blade off of his shoulder. He and Mikita exchanged tense stares. A streetlamp lighting flickered before going out, casting the group into shadow. In the time it took for everyone's eye to readjust, Renji had developed a snarl.

"Man, you humans are as dumb as they come," he spat. "What would pathetic beings like you know of Soul Reapers and their responsibilities? This is exactly why I'm gonna kill you. You all think you're so strong and superior until you go up against a _real _Soul Reaper."

Renji tore his eyes from Mikita's and faced Ichigo instead. "And you, how stupid could you get? Rukia came out here on her own just so you wouldn't have to get involved. You should have stayed put at home, but _no_. You had to come play the hero. Just what did you think you could accomplish here? You're not a reaper, you're just a fake!" Renji's eyes closed, a smirk teasing the corners of his lips as his nose rose. "There's no way you could hurt a real Soul Reaper. You couldn't even lay a scratch on one of us."

No sooner had Renji finished speaking when a flash of silvery-blue slash right in front of his face. His eyes snapped open and he awed at the grounded Ichigo, a thin trickle of blood oozing from his sliced chin.

"Sorry about that," Ichigo said, his voice hoarse. It took some effort, but he was able to pull himself to his feet, with a little support from his gargantuan weapon. "I know you were in the middle of saying something, but you left yourself so wide open there that I just couldn't help myself. I apologize, why don't you continue? Weren't you saying something about a scratch?"

Rather than being angry, Renji smirked again, using his thumb to wipe the blood from his face. "You punk," he said, the small smile still in place. His eyes sharpened in a flash, though, and it was clear that Renji was ready and more than willing to pounce.

"You let your guard down, Renji," a quiet but authoritative voice cut in. It was new to the night, but the forgotten captain succeeded in wiping out Renji's imperious aura.

Despite having addressed his second in command, Byakuya only had eyes for Ichigo. "This young man here, Ichigo Kurosaki," the Kuchiki head said, his tone characteristically stoic. "I believe I've seen him before. There was a report from the Secret Remote Squad. He dealt a Menos Grande quite a serious blow and forced it back to Hueco Mundo as well."

No one reacted for a moment, eyes on either Byakuya or Ichigo. It came as a surprise when Renji threw his head back, laughing openly and rancorously at his captain's claim.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Renji said once he had settled some. "Man, the Secret Remote Squad must really be slippin' these days." He sneered, extending a finger towards Ichigo. "This kid wounded a Menos Grande? Who in the right mind would believe that load of crap? I mean, look at him, Captain! And that zanpakutou; it's nothing more than an overgrown piece of junk! He obviously can't control his spirit energy."

Renji turned from his captain, talking to Ichigo again instead. "So tell me, what's the name of that monstrosity?"

Ichigo only stared, thinking that Renji was trying to catch him off guard somehow. "Huh? What's it's name?" he mimicked skeptically. Renji chortled in response.

"You didn't even ask, did you?" the lieutenant said. Even he had underestimate just how much Ichigo didn't know about what was happening to him.

Mikita, too, realized then that Ichigo was farther in the dark than she would have thought. Since Urahara and Rukia were both so involved in the process, how could neither of them have explained more about what becoming a Soul Reaper meant? But more importantly, back when Ichigo had wounded that Menos Grande - he had done all that without help of his zanpakutou? Its true power was still sealed?

"Huh? You mean Rukia?" Ichigo questioned dumbly, totally lost in the conversation. "Wait, are you guys telling me you all name your swords?"

Mikita frowned. As much of an clod as Ichigo was making of himself, she knew that the situation had just taken a turn for the worse. And when it was already bad to begin with, she was starting to wish she'd just stayed in bed.

"I knew it," Renji scoffed, leering at the boy. "You're not even able to ask your zanpakutou its name. And you really think that you can face me as an equal? Come back in two thousand years!"

With that, Renji released his zanpakutou, morphing Zabimaru into a sort of saw-looking blade.

"Howl, Zabimaru!" Renji commanded a little late, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Now, open your eyes! See what lies before you!" Renji pounced once again into the air, gripping Zabimaru and keeping Ichigo in targeting range. "And fall upon your prey!"

Ichigo brought his sword up, wedging its blade between Zabimaru's teeth. Renji's zanpakutou had changed again. This time, each of the segments dislocated, only remaining connected by what looked to be a sturdy band.

Unfortunately, with Renji's expertise, it was all too simple for the official shinigami to overpower Ichigo's defense. Ichigo cried out and dropped his sword when Zabimaru tore open his shoulder.

The world stood still for a moment, waiting for time to catch up to the fast-paced action. Ichigo was a standing corpse for a few heartbeats, his mouth gaping open, Zabimaru still taking a bite out of his upper arm. Renji leered in the meanwhile, seeming satisfied with the pain that flickered in Ichigo's eyes.

Renji chuckled after some moments, taking his time in tearing Zabimaru back. The bands connecting each segment of the blade bended as if made of rubber as Renji made a swift, whipping motion.

"It's all over, you little runt," Renji announced. "You've lost to Renji Abarai and will die where you stand!"

All parties involved were locked in place, unable to move themselves as Ichigo fell to his knees. The teen's eyes were unfocused, staring wide and blind at the asphalt in front of him.

"Sorry it's ending this way, Kid," Renji spoke, making full use of sarcasm. He swung Zabimaru around his head like a lasso, prolonging the moment of power. "But that's what's known as a difference in strength."

Renji brought Zabimaru back to its original released form, the bands coming together and connecting the segments to form a stable, straight blade. "The zanpakutou can change its size and shape," he explained. "It responds to the wielder's spirit energy. How do ya like my spirit energy?"

When no one responded, Renji went on.

"Well, that's it, Kid. It's time for me to head out. I don't like the way the air smells here."

Rukia lowered her eyes to the ground, accepting both the end and the blame for it.

"Ready?" Renji lipped, taking a step towards the mute, stand-in shinigami. "No answer, eh?"

Mikita's attention was drawn to Rukia, whose legs had tensed. The blue-eyed girl tried to send a silent warning, but telepathy apparently wasn't her strong suit. Rukia was bolting for Ichigo and Renji by the next tick of the clock - at the same moment Renji moved in for the kill.

Renji raised his arm, preparing to bring his sword down on Ichigo. While it was still vertical Rukia rocketed, latching onto the lieutenant's armed arm and twisting behind his back, where her feet landed.

"What are you doin', Rukia?" Renji demanded, his voice strained as he attempted to overpower the force of her full body weight with his one limb. "Let go of me!" He glared at Rukia from over his shoulder, looking livid. "Are you tryin' to make things worse for yourself? You idiot!"

Mikita watched the scene, wondering why Renji didn't come anywhere close to being as brutish with Rukia as he was with Ichigo. Maybe the guy really did have a heart, and there were some people he cared about enough that he wouldn't harm them. It just sucked that she, Mikita, wasn't one of them.

"Ichigo, get out of here!" Rukia begged from her position on Renji's back. "Hurry, you've got to! Go! Get moving!"

The Kuchiki's words hit some kind of nerve in Mikita. After pulling a face - something akin to reluctance or defeat - the girl moved forward as well, making for Ichigo's side to assist in her own way.

If Ichigo had been expecting kind words of encouragement and an offered hand when Mikita slid to his side, he was sadly mistaken. Instead, he was greeted with a fist to the back of his skull and some hollering in his ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mikita shrieked. "Rukia's over there almost literally giving her life for you, and you're just sitting here on your knees spacing out? What's wrong with you, Kurosaki? Aren't you the prodigious child who's supposed to save the world with the your rock hard abs and heart of gold? Now's not the time to be a sore loser, you loser! Are you just going to sit here and let that damned monkey bastard kill us all or are you going to get off your good-for-nothing ass and do something about it?"

Everything went still while Mikita glared down at Ichigo, waiting on baited breath by his side. Just when she was about to call him a lost cause and kill him herself, his hand shifted, stretching along the ground and grasping at his discarded sword's hilt.

"You talk too much, Kame," he rasped, keeping his head lowered.

"B-but this can't be," Renji muttered, ceasing his struggle with Rukia to stare. "You shouldn't have the strength left to move!" He grew angry and glared at Rukia, taking the chance to throw her off of him while she was distracted. "This'll work out just fine," he decided after a moment, however, smirking lightly. "I was thinking it'd be a shame to finish off someone who couldn't move anymore."

Ichigo gripped his sword with more force and pushed himself up to his feet, wavering some before he found his footing. Mikita mimicked the act with the greatest of ease, backing away a few steps to increase her distance.

Renji grinned, swinging Zabimaru up to rest on his shoulder. "I guess the only thing left for you to do is fight hard and die," he declared, not giving off even a little bit of disappointment with the turn of events.

"Run," Rukia cut in to plead, desperation clear in her voice. "I'm begging the both of you, run!"

Neither Mikita nor Ichigo gave off any hints of having heard her. Ichigo's face remained downcast, and Mikita's eyes stalked the area around his feet with a frown, having picked up on the shifting wind.

"What's wrong?" Renji called out. "If you won't attack, than I will!"

Before Renji could carry out the threat, Ichigo's sword began emitting its silvery-blue reiatsu. What started out as a glow very quickly escalated into a burning, swirling whirlwind that circled the imposter's body.

Renji hesitated, recognizing the transformation as something that he shouldn't take lightly. When Ichigo lifted his head, his normally brown eyes were veiled in the searing sheen of his spiritual energy. His new appearance was only on display for a split second, however, as he initiated the next round of the fight. This time, Renji was the flailing chicken.

There was a lapse in the struggle where Ichigo allowed Renji to recuperate some while he spoke. "Ha, I'll tell you exactly what's wrong. It's just that somehow your moves have suddenly became a lot slower," the newly conceited teen said with a grin. Renji's eyes thinned in response.

For someone who had been about to die a few minutes earlier, it was amazing how fast Ichigo had bounced back. The look on his face - that wide grin and flashing eyes - it wasn't Ichigo at all. Some say that power changes people, and some were right. Would Ichigo be able to control himself, or would he take things too far and do something he might regret?

"I don't know what's happening to me, but I like it," Ichigo admitted without shame. "I feel no pain from my wounds, and in fact, I feel totally invincible!"

But the thing was, he _wasn't_.

Ichigo was getting dangerously bold, and Renji was growing furiously defensive. It was a flip-flopping battle of machismo, and there was no chance in hell that it would end well.

Renji regained his stance and steadied his zanpakutou. "Zabimaru, time for you to howl!"


	7. Chapter 7

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Ichigo's maneuvers were about as zealous as a slug while he avoided Zabimaru's blades, which slashed only breaths away from his calves. He grinned as the attack progressed, alternating between letting Renji swat at him and delivering a few hits of his own. It continued that way, volleys exchanged like holiday presents, up until Renji was forced to his knees.

"You're good at scurrying around like a rat, ain't ya?" Ichigo gloated. I scowled at the instant comparison my mind made between the expression and a serpent's; snakes weren't exactly known for their kitten-esque reputation. What the hell was going on with this kid? It was like his reiatsu had no limitation at all - it just kept rising. "But that's enough of that!"

The next thing I knew my classmate was flying high, his sword heading for a crash-landing straight into Renji's skull. Like all the best action films, the suspense seemed to be tripled when the Earth stopped spinning, making each second last twice as long as it should have.

My muscles went rigid, anticipating the nail in the coffin that I knew was on its way. It was incredibly stupid, I know, to be standing stiff at a time like that. What could I say? There was no excuse or explanation. It was like I had said aloud all those minutes ago, I guess. It wasn't my fight. Who was I to interfere with fate?

At least, that was what I kept telling myself. But then, fate was also a tricky little bastard that proved itself to be beyond perception.

I saw it from the corner of my eye, so fast it only lasted as a fleeting flash, but I didn't need to see any details. Impulse broke me from my trance, the reaction taking place before a single coherent though could evolve in my head.

"Ichigo!"

I had started the call of warning no more than an millisecond after I had witnessed the reason for it, but by the time that last syllable had drifted from my lips the damage had already been done.

Ichigo was planted before the crippled Renji, his arm extended. Had his sword been the length it should have been, Renji would have been cut in two. The problem: Ichigo's blade was nothing more than twenty centimeters of steel bulk. The regressed remodel was a blunt stub, two thirds of its original state, the rest of it nowhere to be seen.

Ichigo was the first to regain himself, his eyes reflexively going to Renji. Renji was stiff, his stare wide and unwavering. Ichigo then turned his attention to me.

"M-Mikita? Did you...?" the high school student breathed, his tone wondrous. I had to force myself to swallow, my throat tight and dry. It was only then that I noticed how much closer to the fight I was; I must have rushed in at the same time that I yelled.

"Not me, Ichigo," I affirmed, shaking my head once. I jerked my chin towards the real offender, where my stare was directed. "Look behind you."

Ichigo did as he was told. The cool-as-crystal Captain Kuchiki, monotonous in stance and empty in eyes, looked right on back, the decapitated weapon dangling from his fingers. The captain lifted Ichigo's stolen blade, holding it up for show for a moment before it was dropped to the ground, deemed useless. He then reached for his own zanpakutou, his face carved from granite.

Ichigo tensed, gripping the only excuse for a weapon he had. There was no way he could have prepared for what came next, though. If it was too fast for me to stop, it was the speed of light for him.

If it weren't for my trained eyes, I wouldn't have even seen the slightest movement of the captain. It was just something in the air that kicked our instincts as a group into gear, foreboding of a disaster to come. It took an epoch for a fountain of blood burst out into the air, but it did happen. To Ichigo.

But what I didn't realize right away was that the scarlet liquid was coming from more than one source. Not until searing pain spread like fire across my abdomen, forcing my teeth to clench and my knees to crash to the ground.

"So slow," the noble captain murmured, standing at Ichigo's side and watching without emotion as he fell forward. "...even while you are falling."

My breathing was slow but heavy, my jaw grinding to bite back a hiss. Part of it was from the pain, but part of it was just because I was _pissed_.

What the hell was this guy playing at? What was the point of going after me - I was staying out of it, damn it! Did he think of me to be some kind of threat all of a sudden? Because I had stepped up just once, he took it as a challenge?

It was somehow so easy to forget how much flesh wounds hurt. "_It's just a flesh wound_", my ass.

I pulled my hand away from my side (not having placed it there cognitively in the first place) and glared down at the blood coating my palm. There was a lot of it. I didn't even want to look at the cut itself. I might have puked.

But the pain alone was doing a pretty goof job of making me sick anyway.

For the first time in a long time, I was made aware of how totally out of shape I was. I had never been strong enough to have had any serious hope of taking on a high ranking Soul Reaper, but the odds were at zero when my condition was lowered further. The one word replaying in my mind:

Shit.

"Brother," Rukia's voice rang out. I forced my eyes to focus on what was going on outside of me. I did have to pause, though, when I noticed that the sticky, hot moisture had begun to ooze down from my torso and saturate the material below my hips. In the back of my mind, I recalled that I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans.

No one messed with a girl and her clothes, bitch. Bring on the war.

I directed my glare to the captain, not even thinking to be afraid. He may have wounded me, but I could be just as stubborn as Ichigo when need be. Things had gotten personal, and not just because of the pants. The confrontation as a whole had gone way too far. Their business was with Rukia, not three humans who, as far as they cared to know, didn't even understand the situation. Even if I admitted Ichigo was a pivotal part of it all, that still didn't give them the right to kill the kid without a thought. Then Uryuu - who had only been trying to protect someone who he thought was a innocent girl from another world - and me, who hadn't shown an ounce of any real animosity. Where was the justice in that? These were the people who were suppose to be protecting us from hollows?

"What is it, Renji?" the Kuchiki head asked. I cast the vice-captain an inquiring look of my own. It was easy enough, being only two feet away, to see the unadulterated horror in Renji's eyes. It faltered and morphed into sheepishness by the next moment.

"It's nothing," Renji insisted. "You didn't need to step in for such a weakling, Captain. I could have finished him myself."

I snorted despite my own less than high-and-mighty position. The action irritated my wound but I ignored it for the moment, smirking through the agony. "Yeah, you could have handled it by yourself, alright," I wheezed, sounding like a granny. Great. "That's why you were about to be cut into deli meat before your captain stepped in. There's no point in trying to act like you had it all under control, because we all know better. You're just making yourself look even more lame by saying you would have handled it. Own up or shut up, I say."

Renji snarled, reaching out and closing the distance between us by grabbing the neck of my shirt. I winced. Suddenly, I wondered why I had opened my mouth at all. It might have been just a little hypocritical of me to try to ignore the fact that I was bleeding out by criticizing him, no?

"Stay out of this, girl!" Renji spat in my face - a little literally. "Watch who you're talkin' to. Who the hell do you think you are sayin' somethin' like that to a lieutenant of one of the Gotei 13 Protection Squads? I could kill you in my sleep! Know your place, human."

I coughed out a dry chuckle. I found myself wishing that my taste would be the first sense to leave me when I started to die, seeing as blood had begun to creep under my tongue, and iron was anything but appetizing. But Renji tossed me aside just then, and I stifled a cry, slumping over when I landed and wrapping both arms around my lacerated side. The guy was a total jerk - no one would deny that much.

But still, as wrong as it was, I had to admit Renji was almost hot as hell when you got close to him. And when you didn't get close to him, while we're at it. His eyes were a beady, deep brown that had more passion behind them than any I had ever seen; it was just a shame that passion was working against me. Besides, when were tattoos not sexy?

Ha. You know you're really off your rocker when the only thing you can think about on your death bed is how much you want to bang the guy that killed you. Or at least a guy on the same side of the guy that killed you. Did that make it less crazy?

"Come now, Renji," Captain Kuchiki spoke in a soft voice, closing his eyes with the soupcon of a smirk on his face. "Even I will get rusty if all I ever do is watch, don't you agree?"

Renji didn't answer, staring off in thought instead.

While Renji brooded, it gave me the time to flex my mental muscles, too. Why couldn't I have been more level-headed before? Just like these higher-ups had underestimated us, we had underestimated them. I had underestimated them and their integrity. And now here we were.

I dropped my line of vision down, watching my blood seep through my clothes and move on to the asphalt. Of all things, I wondered what would happen the next morning. Who would find the bodies? Who would clean up the mess? Would someone honor our deaths with a memorial statue? Who would be willing to send fast food to the afterlife for me? It was a shame the Soul Society was so archaic when it came to modern marvels.

"Ichigo!" Rukia's voice broke in as dashing forward to meet us. "Ichigo!"

The twit. What about me? And what about taking advantage of our sacrifice and getting away?

Renji darted for Rukia. "Forget it!"

My entire left side was numbed by an intense burn. It was bizarre, but not altogether _painful_. Still, it was so outside of my comfort zone that I couldn't help but finally cry out and crumple to the ground. But hadn't I already been on the ground? When had I lifted myself up?

I could made out enough through my flinching to see Renji pinning Rukia to a light post, his hand around her neck.

"What does it matter now, you fool? He's already dead," Renji asserted, putting more pressure in his hold. I shifted the best that I could without putting too much stress on my abdomen, blinking the tears from my eyes so that I could better see the mass of orange laying motionless some ways away. Ichigo did kind of look dead. Was he?

"Listen, Rukia," Renji commanded. "If you so much as touch him they'll add another twenty years to your sentence. Besides, you'd only end up increasing your sins for someone who's died."

I didn't take my eyes off Ichigo's corpse, but I kept my ear fully tuned into Rukia's response.

"I got him involved in all this," she said. "It's my fault that Ichigo's dead. _So what the hell's wrong with me going to him?_"

"So even if it makes your sentence harsher," Byakuya said, entering the discussion, "you truly feel that you must help him. Is that what you're saying to me?"

"I am, Brother," Rukia declared.

For Take Two of my attempt to stand, I took things only as fast as I could manage. My body felt as if it weighed twice as much as it normally would. My head pounded, my vision wavering between semi-normal and straight-up trippy. I swayed some before I found my footing, putting more effort into breathing than was healthy. I did my best to push all of that inner choas out of my eyes, though, when I pinned them on Captain Kuchiki.

"Of course she wants to go to him," I said, the pack-a-day-smoker type rasping sounding foreign (not to mention gross) to my own ears. "It's what being human's all about. We take responsibility for ourselves and our actions, and even when we know we can't win, we fight anyway. We won't just stand by and let someone we care about die just because you tell us there's nothing we can do. Even if we know you're right, that's not going to stop us from trying. If Ichigo was willing to give his life to keep Rukia from you, then of course she'd be willing to do the same for him. Maybe things have gone a hell of a lot colder in the Soul Society, but here there's this suicidal sense of justice that we tend to want to die for. Get it?"

Captain Kuchiki's stare betrayed no feelings he might have had about the situation or my take on it. He looked away from me, actually, and glanced down at Ichigo's body, which was sprawled at his feet.

"I see," he murmured, almost under his breath. He lifted his gaze, directing it over my shoulder to where I supposed was Rukia's face. "I understand now, Rukia. This young man does indeed bear a striking resemblance to him."

My understanding was in the dark with that one, but I didn't let myself get distracted trying to figure it out. My knees were shaking. My joints were creaking. Laying down and dying was starting to sound better and better.

But then Ichigo's arm shot up, grabbing a fist full of Captain Kuchiki's shihakushou. I just about fell over from the shock of it. I guess the kid wasn't dead after all. And not only not dead, but not immobile or unconscious, either. What was he smoking and where could I find some?

Ichigo pulled his head up, showing us a sinister grin. Something definitely wasn't right about that. Where was even the smallest hint of discomfort? Concern?

"'He's dead,' you say? 'Bears a striking resemblance to him?' I'd rather that you quit talking about me like I'm not even here, got it?" Ichigo leered.

I took an involuntary step back, which proved to be too much for me when I stumbled over nothing and dropped down to my knees. Was that really Ichigo? Was that really the same dork from my class who was always scowling at everything and sucking the fun out of everyone's day?

"Let go," Kuchiki demanded, his tone as dry as the Sahara.

"Sorry, I couldn't...hear you," Ichigo jested, despite his labored breathing. "Maybe you should try looking at me when you talk!"

Ichigo may have been resilient, but he wasn't Harry Houdini (or Albert Einstein, clearly). How could he possibly even consider antagonizing the enemy from that position in the dirt?

"I see," Byakuya repeated. "It looks like you won't be needing that arm."

Apparently Renji had both been too caught up in the exchange to remember Rukia, and she broke free from his hold before he could stop it. Rather than play the hero, however, she aimed her assault at Ichigo's outstretched limb, kicking it away from her brother as if it were vermin.

"Rukia, what are you doing?" Ichigo gasped, coming back to his senses. It was the question heard around the world.

Rukia lowered her head, a shadowing masking her eyes from view. "You are just a human," she spat, unexpected venom in her voice. "You are just a lowly human, how dare you grab my brother like that." She craned her neck, glaring down at Ichigo with simmering eyes. "You'd better learn your place!"

I watched in awe as her expression calmed to frigid state that nearly reflected her brother's. "We should leave now, Brother. The actions Ichigo just took have opened my eyes to the truth."

I couldn't have said anything if I wanted to. I couldn't barely even put together in a thought process to begin with. Was she for real? Where did that come from? She couldn't have really switched side at the drop of a pin, could she?

A forced pressed down between my shoulder blades, easing me to the ground - not that I had the energy or will to fight back, anyway. I let my body fall and be pinned to the soncrete, not really wanting to deal with anything anymore. What were the odds that falling asleep would have good long term benefits? It had some short term ones, for sure.

"I am ready now, take me back to the Soul Society," Rukia said. "It is time that I atone for my sins."

A movement from my side distracted me, redirecting my attention to Renji, who was advancing towards the three. He must have been the one who pushed me down. At least he'd been pretty gentle about it, as delayed a point as it was to show sympathy.

"You can't leave here now," Ichigo said in a rush. "I mean, our work isn't finished! Rukia..."

A foot collided with the back of his neck, anchoring his head to the ground.

"You just don't know when to give up, do ya?" Renji questioned, surprising me with the minimal taunting in his tone. "Listen, the more you move around the quicker you're gonna find yourself dead."

"I see no reason to inflict a final blow upon them now," Rukia countered, keeping her back to us all. "Leave them be. Soon enough the three of them will die on their own. We should leave now, Brother."

With those final word she stepped forward, leaving all of us in the dust without a single double-take.

"Wait! Rukia, stop. Look at me. Is this some kind of a joke?" Ichigo demanded, his voice cracking by the end. I bit my tongue. He really thought that she had experienced the worst mood swing in the history of the feminine race, but I was sure I had figured out her real motives. As little as it was, the best thing she could do to help was give herself up and hope we could all walk away.

Ichigo didn't understand that much, though, and grew increasingly angry, struggling against Renji's weight.

"Don't move," Rukia commanded, her back still turned. Ichigo obeyed like a dog. "Take even one step, or try to come after me and I'll... I'll never forgive you!"

Rukia looked over her shoulder for that (admittedly lame) threat, her eyes flooded with tears. Sje must have been just as tormented by her emotions as I was by my skin, if you thought about it. All of the lengths she had gone to to try to keep everyone safe were all in vain; they may have even made things worse. It really was all her fault, in a way. It was a lot to have one your shoulders, if you acknowledged it.

Rukia and Ichigo kept eye contact as the girl continued, the female's voice much softer and more imploring then when she spoke hitherto. "You are going to die, so why not stay put and live a few seconds longer?"

I wasn't on the same page with her logic, but it seemed to be good enough for Ichigo, who deflated right before our eyes, conceding to his fate.

"Alright," Byakuya announced, placing his zanpakutou back into its sheath. "I will not deal the finishing blow. Even if these two do manage to survive my attacks, all of their powers will be lost - the boy's special Soul Reaper powers as well as their spiritual energies." He took a moment to let that fact sink in before calling out to his lieutenant. "Renji," he hummed, saying all he needed.

The red head removed himself from Ichigo's back and surged forward into an open area. He brought Zabimaru up in front of him, holding the blade parallel in to his body and waiting for it to fill with his reiatsu. When that was done he extended it ahead of him, the blade disappearing in shadow.

"Now, open!" Renji ordered, turning the sword like a key. A traditional set of double doors materialized, glowing a blinding white. The doors slid open and black butterflies emerged from their depths. I watched with a fair bit wonder. So that was it, huh? The "white light at the end of the tunnel" crap? That was the entrance to the Soul Society?'

Renji sealed Zabimaru before stepping into the abyss, his body becoming engulfed in light. Byakuya made the next move forward, Rukia following behind in his wake. Just before the doors closed behind them, Rukia took one last look at the world she was leaving. Then, the portal closed and vanished, without a trace.

When I cared enough to realize I was still a living part of the world Rukia had left behind, I was less than happy with the predicament. It had started to rain, and the three of us - Ichigo, Uryuu, and I - were nothing but ditched guppies left out to shrivel up in the definition of a cinematic ending. Beaten, betrayed, and abandoned in the middle of the night under a sudden shower? I could have laughed at the unoriginality if only I didn't have, you know, a lethal stab wound in my stomach. Was that really it? That was the pathetically predictable close to my life story?

I grit my teeth, pushing my weight up on my elbows and casting an eccentric glace towards Ichigo. They say that rain is the good cover for tears, but I knew better than to think that the trails marring his cheeks had come from the sky. A defeated, possibly heartbroken hero. Poor sap.

I battled for control for my limbs, pulling myself into a four-legged position. Those Reapers could have at least had the decency to leave us to die on the grass. I directed my inner aggression towards that complaint as I did my best to crawl, not wanting to dwell on just how torturous moving had become. That, and also to keep me from glancing down to see if my intestines was hanging out and dragging. It sure as hell felt like it. The though didn't paint the best mental picture.

I choked once I reached my classmate, letting myself collapse at his side and devote myself to regaining the best breathing pattern possible. My coughing fit brought up more blood, and I was sure, if I were to smile, it would send children screaming.

I bit my lip, pushing all the discomfort (ha, epic understatement) away and taking in the mess that was Ichigo Kurosaki. It was hard to tell if he was alive or not, again; his eyes were open but unblinking, dull and unfocused. He could have already reunited with Rukia in another realm for all I could guess.

"Ichigo," I grunted. I wasn't sure which blurred blotch of orange was him, since there were at least four of them swirling around my vision. "Oi, Mikan."

Ichigo's eyes flickered up from the concrete, their journey gruelingly snail-paced until they met up with mine. My mouth opened without a sound, flapping like an air-born salmon before I regained the ability to speak.

"Y-your not giving up yet, are you? C'mon! Bad asses like you...they don't just...get knocked down and give in. This isn't anywhere near over, you moron. Just...stay awake. You'll see. J-just...stay awake..."

It was easier said then done, and I was setting a rotten example if there ever was one. My voice sounded just like Iago, the annoying bird in _Aladdin_, only not as annoying. I didn't want that to be the last comparison to fame I was granted.

I flopped onto my back, gazing up towards the stars. That was it. I was done. Why bother? It was just as I had told Ichigo: stay awake. It could happen if I didn't move and made myself as comfortable as I could, couldn't it?

Or was that the best way to fall asleep?

The clouds obscured my already limited vision, of course, blocking out the pretty, twinkling planets and burning gas balls. At least the solid, swirling cloud mass proved to lessen my sense of nausea, in a weird twist of irony. It really was funny, though. Even when I could no longer feel or see the rain hitting my skin, I could still hear it. The sound was like a lullaby, urging me to close my eyes. I found staying awake growing more and more difficult.

My lids steadily lowered, my scope lessening with each note of nature's song. But then it happened. Joining the pleasant tune was a hollowed clicking, one that brought me to my sense and shut them down within the same fraction of a second.

I smirked slightly, succumbing to sleep without further resistance. My last snap-shot was a blob of yellow.

"Nice of you to show up when all the danger's over, Urahara."


	8. Chapter 8

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

"Oi, Tessai? I think he's shivering a bit under there. Maybe you should try climbing under the covers _with_ him. You know, to keep him warm and everything?"

"Ah, I see, Kame-Dono. If you think it would benefit the boy, then I will not hesitate to act on your directions."

My fist was stuffed into the fissure of my lips, serving the double purpose of hiding my wicked grin and stifling the cackles that were itching to be let out. Did taking advantage of a comatose boy after he was mortally wounded count as a sin? If it did, I was totally setting myself up for an eternity locked behind the fiery gates. But still, the opportunity was too good to pass up. Could you really just sit by and not play a few harmless pranks on someone like Ichigo when you knew they couldn't do anything about it? People like him were just begging to be played with.

I resorted to holding my breath to keep from laughing as Tessai loomed over the slumbering teen. I could only imagine what the kid's face would look like when he woke up. I, for one, would never want Tessai's face to be the first thing I saw in the morning; never mind having his face be the first thing I saw in the morning because he was lying on top of me in bed. (No offense to the big guy, of course.)

No. I myself would much rather a handsome slice of testosterone watching over me, his sculpted bod blanketing my still form like a quilt of pure man. Or, better yet, _two _masculine slices of steaming man beast hovering over me. Identical ones. Twins. It was too bad I didn't know any non-fictional ones, though. I would have to settle for the next best, tangible thing, which sort of sucked. (No Weasleys? No Hitachiins? Just let me die.)

But hey, anything was better than Urahara, right? He was the last person _I _had seen before passing out, after all. Sure, the old man wasn't exactly hideous, but when it came down to a some-what-okay-looking pervert old enough to be your father, and two identical studly twins that finish each others' sentences? No competition. I wasn't usually a fan of twincest, but I think I could make an exception in that case, provided it was a personal show.

No, what was I saying? Twincest is bad. Very bad. No twincest. Disgusting act. But threesomes? Now that was another story. I'm a rather open minded person. I wouldn't usually go for something like that, either, but if my dear Misters thought differently, who was I to oppose an experiment?

Wait, what was I talking about again? Before the whole twin sex fantasy thing? Poor Ichigo, wasn't it? Somehow I can't decide which someone like Ichigo would prefer to wake up to, between twins and Tessai. A poll, anyone?

Why was it so much harder than usual to keep my mind on one track? It must have had something to do with all the pain pills Urahara had had me chug when I woke up. Blame Urahara and his outrageous need to take care of dying people if I'm a little too off my rocker for your taste. Bastard. It was kind of nice to be so giddy, though.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for Ichigo to begin to stir, so I couldn't get either of us into any more trouble than I already had by that point. Tessai and I both leaned forward when we notice Sleeping Beauty waking, but I wasn't the one who ended up giving the kid Eskimo kisses as a result.

The look on my face surely rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat. And man, is that thing creepy. I used to have nightmares about it back in the day, you know. There was this one reoccurring one where I was lost in the forest and he'd pop up - or, rather, his head would pop up and his fat gut of a body would take its time squeezing through the dimensions - and just stand there, grinning at me. I'd pluck up enough courage to ask it for help, but it would never respond or get rid of its grin. It just sat there on the tree branch, staring and grinning. It would occasionally flick its tail or tilt its head, but never stop staring. And grinning. I think that was where my hatred of cats stemmed from. That and that other Disney movie, _The Aristocats_. Now _that _was a seriously disturbing piece of film. I mean, the thing was about a family of talking cats! To this day I can't listen to jazz music without getting chills and looking over my shoulder.

(Not that I often find myself listening to jazz music. I'm not that cool.)

No matter what anyone says, cats are nothing but trouble and anything but cute. Think about that beast Yoruichi; that thing is _evil_! It's the felines we should be worrying about taking over the world - not any alien life forms. Why does everyone get so worked up over extra terrestrials when the real culprits are already right here, living in our homes? Weren't cats notorious for their "I'll do what I damn well please" attitudes? And yet we still think of them as good pets? They're plotting, and they've got us wrapped around their fluffy little paws in the process. It's only a matter of time until they make their move. They'll slowly but surely take over households across the globe, from the couch to the computer, until we're all eating only scraps of vegetables from the floor that our feline fiends deem inedible. Maybe some pasta, too, but apparently cats can have a fetish for lasagna. Then again, you can never really trust a cartoon to give you valuable facts of-

"WHAAAH!"

Damn, I missed main event. Oh, well. I might not have caught the visual reaction, but I definitely heard it. In fact, I think a few of those harmless Martians might have heard it, too. It wasn't a complete loss.

"Oh, that was quite the reaction," Tessai mumbled, moving in even closer to the Ichigo. The boy pushed himself as close as humanly possible against the floor in response. I wished more than anything that I had thought to grab a camera; the dork looked like he was about to wet himself. If I didn't hate the kid so much, I might have felt just the slightest bit sorry for him. Well, I guess I didn't _hate_ him, exactly, but we weren't BFFs by a long shot. I couldn't see how he managed to maintain friends in the first place, since it's not as if he even treated them very nicely. But whatever. Their loss. My heart wasn't big enough to feel sympathy, not even for a 15-year-old getting sexually assaulted right in front of me.

It was belated, perhaps, but something seemed to snap in Ichigo and he fought back against his captor. I guess they are right when they say men don't like being on the bottom. It must be a pride thing. They won't settle for anything but dominance during those kind of things. Those kinds of semi-nude, boy-on-boy things.

After getting over the initial shock of having Ichigo lash out at his face, Tessai regained his composure and forced his face towards the door, overpowering both of Ichigo's arms (which were holding Tessai's cheeks - facial cheeks, not, _ahem_, cheeks) with his neck strength alone.

"Boss!" the Hulkish being called. "Kurosaki-Dono has awakened!"

Ichigo was taken aback by the Tessai's effortless conquering, but he got over it quickly, digging his fingers deeper into the man's flesh to demand his attention.

"Hey, I've seen you before!" Ichigo announced. "You're one of Hat 'n Clogs people!"

No duh. You'd think he'd be more concerned about getting Tessai off than identifying him.

(Was Tessai ever planning on getting off? Maybe he was enjoying it. Maybe Ichigo was to, on some level. You never know.)

"Why the hell are you in my bed?" Ichigo shrieked. The fact that he'd finally addressed that matter was comforting for some reason.

I pulled myself up a little straighter, taking more interest in the exchange at that point. My movement must have caught Ichigo's attention, since his eyes migrated towards me. I sniggered at his expression, also noting that the surprise had caused his grip on Tessai's face to loosen, causing the kidou master to fall back into Ichigo's personal space.

"Kame?" Ichigo questioned, bewildered. "What are you doing here? Did I die? Is this Hell?"

That last comment wiped the grin off my face. I glared at Ichigo as if I really were an inhabitant of Hell, only finding myself mildly amused when he gulped.

"You should be thanking us, Orange Idiot," I said, crossing my arms and legs, which made for a more awkward seating position than I had imagined. "We're the ones who saved your life and have been looking after you all night. Tessai here even climbed under the covers with you to keep your body temperature regulated. What kind of thanks is attacking him like a wild mongoose? If it wasn't for him, you could have caught a fever or something on top of the injuries you already have. You were lying in rain in the middle of the night, after all." I switched gears, twisting my lips. "Don't deny it, I bet you were _mighty _warm when you woke up. I'm willing to bet you were even enjoying it before you opened up your eyes, am I right? Were you expecting someone else to be on top of you? Were you hoping a wet dream had finally come true?"

Ichigo sputtered, choking on a comeback and still neglecting to notice the closing distance between his and Tessai's faces. I might be able to see his reaction after all, albeit a take-two reaction. My own intellect (or was it luck?) amazed me.

I pushed my chin to the side some, angling my face to catch the light in just the right way to get a shadow effect on my face. (At least, I hope it had that effect, otherwise I must have just looked like a Praying Mantis). The corners of my lips inched up as I made eye contact with Ichigo, my eyes glittering with malicious intent in the early morning sunlight.

"Why don't you thank Tessai-san properly, Kurosaki," I suggested, all coy-like. "He's right where you left him."

At the same agonizing pace as in all those crappy horror movies, Ichigo tilted his head, gazing over his shoulder.

The reaction was just how I pictured it. Ichigo's pupil's shrunk to the point where they were barely there at all, and his face drained of color. The sweat started rolling and he attempted to mold himself into the pillows again.

And Tessai did _nothing_. He sat there, staring down at the kid without the slightest change in expression. And you wanna know what the absolute best part of it all was? Their noses were _just barely_ touching. Ah, odd, forbidden love! How sweet.

"Get out!" Ichigo eventually ordered in the roar of an enraged tiger, taking initiative. Without even waiting to see whether or not Tessai would comply, Ichigo lifted his leg, bringing his foot up to Tessai's stomach and catapulting the bigger guy across the room.

It was, again, delayed, but the violent motion reminded Ichigo of the reason he didn't wake up in his own bed. The boy was soon doubled over and grasping his shoulder in pain, hissing through his teeth. And, judging by the dopey expression he had on his face immediately after that, he was only just then realizing that he didn't actually wake up in his own bed. He may have been a shinigami prodigy, but the kid had the common sense of a fruit fly.

"Come now. That's not good for you, Ichigo. Your wounds still haven't closed yet," Urahara chastised, prancing into the room with his trusty fan fluttering in front of his face.

Ichigo was stern as he regarded the newcomer, my guess trying to make sense of the circumstances. I, however, raised a brow high. It was one thing to make a grand entrance at the opportune moment, but Urahara failed with it miserably. The whole point of setting something like that up was so you gave of this rad aura that made people think, _'Wow, who is this amazingly cool and mysterious person?_' The only thought that would be going through my mind if Urahara and I weren't already acquainted, though, was, _'Dude, who let the dogs _in_?'_. My biggest peeve might have had something to do with Urahara's stance. With the way he was holding his fad and standing with what he must have though was grace, he sort of reminded me of a geisha. A really ugly geisha. But there was something else there as well. Something...wannabe Gothic. Like an amateur Dracula. The way Urahara's robe was flowing out definitely reminded me of Dracula's cape. So I guess we could conclude all of this and say that the man was a transvestite geisha posing for a Halloween performance.

(Hey, I was drugged up! Give me a break for sounding like an total dweeb.)

"Mr. Hat 'n Clogs," Ichigo mumbled, his stare unwavering. "So this is your house."

"Exactly!" Urahara exclaimed, snapping his fan shut and gesturing around the room. The wonder on Ichigo's face faded into a glare.

"You're the one who saved me?" the carrot top questioned in a hard tone. You'd think he'd be a tad more respectful when confirming that kind of thing. He would die of bad karma if he kept up that 'tude.

"Oh? That's not the response I was expecting," Urahara commented in faux puzzlement. "It almost sounds like you didn't want to be saved."

Ichigo's eyes turned downcast while he presumably reflected. I watched on, my mood slipping into more sane territory at last. The night before had been pretty intense, even for me. What was Ichigo feeling about it, then?

"Oh yeah, Ishida was lying nearby, too!" Ichigo brought up, changing the mood and subject a bit. "Where is he? Is he here, too?"

"No, he went home," Urahara filled him in. "While he did lose a lot of blood, his wounds weren't serious. Even if we'd have left him there, he wouldn't have died for at least a few days, so I was able to treat him at the spot."

I snorted some, careful not to draw attention. Like Uryuu would have just lied there like a log for three days straight. Even if he had stayed unconscious that entire time, we'd been in the middle of Karakura Town; as if no one would walk or drive by and not notice a teenage in a pool of blood on the side of the road.

"When he left, he was worried about you, Ichigo," Urahara added. Ichigo's expression became baffled.

"He was worried about _me_?" the teen asked dumbly from his seat. "No way..."

"What about me? Did he say anything about making sure I was alright?" I interjected, genuinely wondering if Uryuu had shown any form of care. If he was concerned for Ichigo, his self-proclaimed enemy, than I must have had some place in his chilly heart too, right?

Urahara grinned from beneath his bucket hat, tapping the closed fan against his palm. "Actually, if I remember correctly he said something about you being a traitorous coward and getting what you deserved. I guess he must have already been too far out of it by the time you jumped in to help, ne, Kita-Chan?"

I wondered why I had bothered asking at all. Of course Uryuu hated me, and I more or less hated him, too. But still, I wouldn't want the kid to _die_. Had he really gone so far as to say something like that when I was in such bad condition?

Urahara chuckled at my deadpanned expression, cocking his head to the side. "But then again, my memory is a bit fuzzy. He might have mentioned watching out for you some time after that."

Idjiut.

Urahara turned his attention back to Ichigo and continued their interrupted conversion.

"According to Ishida-San," the shop keeper said, "you are the only one that can save Kuchiki-San, Ichigo."

Ichigo diverted his gaze, his knees apparently better to look at. "Only me, huh? What am I supposed to do? Rukia's gone back to the Soul Society."

With more mood swings than a woman going through menopause, the monologue went on: '_Poor me, poor me. I wasn't strong enough to stop the red-head sex god from taking Rukia away, and now everyone expects me to save her, even though I'm not strong enough. Boo hoo! But I have to save her, since I can't let her die! It's not the good, manly thing to do! I'll just have to train my butt of to discover my true potential and then I'll be able to go into the big, bad Soul Society and save her. Go me, the misunderstood, underdog, teen-hero hottie!' _

Okay, that's not _precisely _how the conversation went, but it's close enough. Even if Ichigo didn't say those exact words, he was probably thinking them. Which is the very reason that I tuned his and Urahara's exchange out. I mean, we all know that Ichigo wouldn't do as he was told and follow Rukia's last request to leave her be. Men were such simplistic, selfish creatures.

Instead, I let my eyes wander around the room, as if it was completely foreign to me. I may not have spent much time within those particular four walls, but there wasn't exactly a huge amount of variation between which one and the next. My room was the only one with personality, really. Maybe I could extend my personality to these seldom used spaces one of these days?

Maybe my personality kept rats away, because my room didn't have rats. In that spare roon, however, my visual perusal lead me to the discovery of some skulking thing in the shadows with glowing, almond eyes. Was it a rat? It was as big as a cat!

Oh, jam. Why couldn't it have been a rat? No, that Yoruichi was back and lurking. You'd think it was actually listening by the way it observed everything so seriously. Of all the felines in the world, that one was my least favorite by far. I think it was possessed, legitimately. When I knew it was in the area I could only sleep with my door and window locked. You never know what those things will do at night when you're unsuspecting in bed; they could just slice your neck right open with one of those feces infested claws. Why take the chance?

After some time, Urahara and Ichigo established that they would have ten days to train, seven days to open the gate leading to the Soul Society, and thirteen days to find and rescue Rukia. Plenty of time. No problem. They could do it.

Not.

But if was going to be easy, that wouldn't make for a very good story, would it? And we all knew that no matter what the odds, Ichigo wasn't the type to give up. Some would call him noble, others would call him an moron. I guess it's an admirable quality to same gals. Haven't you noticed the swarms of girls chasing after Ichigo? Let's count them, shall we?

1) Orihime

2)...

...I was out. So that brings our grand total to one girl, and a ditsy one at that. Not exactly a record, but he could be doing worse.

"In ten days...can I get stronger?" Ichigo growled under his breath, although I kind of got the feeling he wanted an outside answer. It was a decent question, at least

"The power of love is stronger than steel," Urahara commented, making me choke. Love? "Leave your doubts and hesitation out in the gutter. For ten days, can you handle a life or death situation with me?"

"You have to _ask_?" Ichigo snapped. Urahara grinned, looking more than a little sinister.

I fell onto my side with a sigh, planting my elbow to the ground and supporting my head with a palm. Business was getting boring. It was only a girl's life, for goodness sake. Besides, she was technically already dead. Which brought up a question: what exactly did happen when a Soul Reaper died? The Soul Society was likely the Heaven most people thought of, so then what's after that? Do they go to an eternal resting place in some other dimension? Or do they get reincarnated? Maybe we should put a tag on Rukia and let her die, just so we could track her soul after she passed on. (For the _second _time). Then again, that wasn't the best reason to kill someone, huh? Although she was already sentenced to death anyway...

Somehow, though, I didn't think voicing my plan was worth it. It was one of those "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" situations.

"Yeah, yeah," I drawled from my log position. It was about time to lighten the air. "So we've established that Kurosaki here's gonna bust his butt and save the day yet again. But before you do all that, Mikan-San, you're going to have to give me back my pants."

I didn't even open my eyes, knowing I would lose my cool composure; the corners of my lips were twitching as it was.

"W-what the hell?" Ichigo sputtered. "What are you talking about? I never touched any of your clothes!"

I smirked, opening my eyes to take in the flustered boy. "Oh? Whose pants did you think you were wearing? It's not like you had any clothes on when you got here. Do you honestly think that Urahara or Tessai even own a pair of sweatpants? Never even mind a pair that would fit you. Take a look, Kurosaki." He did as he was told, and I bit my lip before going on, rambling to keep from cracking. "And just so you know, magenta definitely _isn't_ your color. I was surprised that they fit you, actually. You must have one flat bottom to fit into a pair of my pants, since we all know my ass is as plump as a pancake. Or it it a flat front, in your case? I do have to say, though, I am diggin' the shirtless thing you've got going on."

By the end of it, Ichigo's cheeks matched the shade of his pants. My pants, rather. But Ichigo might as well just have kept them, because I would never wear them again. Anything was better than that stuffy shihakushou. Why did Shinigami wear those things anyway? Not only were they old fashioned and boring, but weren't work-out clothes generally more form fitting? Having a few extra yards of fabric ruffling around your ankles in the middle of a battle could be dangerous, no? And distracting. Why was the Soul Society so behind on the times?

"Shut up!" Ichigo more or less squealed, reminding me that there was an actual conversation going on outside of my head. "I never asked to be put in your clothes! For all I know you forced them on me while I was sleeping. That's it, isn't it? You just admitted you like my chest. You've probably been sitting there ogling me all night." He crossed his arms over his chest, turning smug.

"Oh, yes, that's it exactly," I drawled with a blank expression, sarcasm dripping off my teeth. "I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. The only down side was having to share that time with Tessai, only he was more _hands on_."

I performed an internal victory dance, loving when I got the last line. What I didn't love, though, was the way Ichigo's face darkened, his brown eyes boring into my turquoise. Why wasn't he freaking out?

"Mikita," he said, as serious as anything. "I have something I've been wanting to ask you."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, you called me by my first name. This must be big. Are you going to propose or something? Sorry, but if that's what this is about then the answer is no. I don't date pieces of fruit, let alone marry-"

"Shut up, Kame," Ichigo commanded. I, incredibly, found myself obeying.

Ichigo kept steady eye contact, his shoulders stiff. "I want to know what you have to do with all of this," he told me. "How could you see me while I was in my spirit form? And how did you know about everything that was going on last night? I'm not an idiot. While we out there with those Reapers, there was something off with you. Why were you so calm with all of that? It was like you weren't confused or surprised or scared at all, not with anything that was happening. And how are you barely injured? I saw you get cut up, but you're fine now, even when I'm still recovering. What's going on? What are you?"

Even the birds outside didn't have the balls to sing. Inside, all eyes were on me, waiting for a rebuttal.

My facial expression was glued in place. It gave away no emotion, which completely betrayed the frenzy whizzing around in my head. The crazy thing was, I actually considered telling Ichigo what he wanted to know. Why should I not?

But overall, what would be the fun in giving him all of the answers so early on? You needed to make a man work for the goods.

I let a slow smirk slither into place and dropped my chin. I, of course, succeeded in giving off a rad aura - unlike Urahara.

"Sorry, Kurosaki," I said. "I think that's something I'd rather keep to myself for now. You've heard that stupid saying, right? 'It's for me to know and you to find out'."

I managed a single, seamless single crunch. Once upright, I shifting my weight first to my knees, then rolled back onto my feet and lifted myself from the floor. I kept up a steady pace towards the door but halted when I got there, laying my fingers on the frame and looking over my shoulder.

"Tell you what," I said, my stare on Ichigo, "I'll make a deal with you. You go through with this mission, save Rukia, come back with your head, and I'll tell you anything you want to know about me. And just so you know, if you do end up choking it, the chances of the two of us meeting up again in some land yonder is pretty much zero, so you'd end up having that nagging curiosity nibbling away at your earwax. Suck on that when you're in a tough spot up there, okay?"

I propelled myself out of the room without waiting for an answer. Like I needed one anyway.

* * *

"Bwahahahahaha!"

"Man, are you _still _doing that?" Mizuiro spoke through a groan, sending Keigo a puppy-turned-doll sort of stare. I guess his cute looks and puny physic were key in attracting those older women of his. The kid was a tool and loving every minute of it.

"Aw, come on!" Keigo insisted. "It's still the bomb to _me_!"

It was too bad his opinion didn't count for beans. It seemed as if the population had finally begun to see things my way; I'd heard that the _Spirit Hunter_ ratings had been going down. For some reason, the news brought me a strange sense of pride. I must have been a trend setter. No, a trend ruin-er.

(Who says "the bomb" anymore anyway? How tacky could the kid get?)

"Orihime, have you decided on your summer plans?" Tatsuki asked from beside me, switching things up. It was the last day of school before summer break, and no one besides the friendless, study-as-a-hobby Uryuu was disappointed to see the year end.

Orihime fizzled back down to Earth. She had been going off into her own world more often than ever since her spiritual abilities had awakened, and somehow even more so since Rukia's departure. Even if she hadn't been directly involved in that affair, her memory was most likely perfectly intact, unlike the rest of the students'.

"Oh no, nothing yet," Orihime answered after a pause, closing her eyes with a gentle smile.

Chizuru was on the scene in a flash. "In that case," she sang, "come stay over at my house! My parents are away on vacation, so..."

Chizuru trailed off, hoping that Orihime would take the hint. Orihime, however, couldn't even pick up on heterosexual flirting. But Tatsuki did catch on right away, which was never a good thing for Chizuru.

"No way!" the tomboy growled, bringing her fist up in a near trade-mark pose.

"Why not?" the Chizuru whined, apparently finding nothing wrong with her invitation. Or at least pretending not to find anything wrong with her invitation.

I sighed and decided that, if things weren't going to get physical, then there wasn't any point in paying attention. Since eavesdropping could only excite a girl for so long, I turned to spying on the rest of the room visually. There wasn't much spice there either. What was the point of coming in for the last day of school? It wasn't as if we did anything productive. It was just chatting about summer plans and listening to the teacher's lectures about making sure to read and do your summer homework and stay safe; all that unimportant bologna.

What I wanted to learn was how someone came up with the word "bologna". I mean, why was it spelled that way? BO-LO-NEY. They couldn't just write it like it sounds? Why did there have to be different languages? The unpronounced and blender-ed lettering was annoying. The silent G must have been an Italian thing. Bologna, lasagna, Vic Mignogna...

Was bologna even Italian?

Somewhere in between my thoughts of deli meats and Italian treats, my eyes came to rest on a lone figure in the heart of the room. Ichigo looked pathetic, moping over Rukia's empty seat. It was like they really had been lovers or something. Only, from what I had seen, they were more often at each others' throats than getting cozy. Leave it to a prick like Kurosaki to treat a girl like dirt and only show his true feelings when it's too late.

At the same time, I had to feel bad for the guy; I would have had to be a real slug not to. Ichigo was forced to watch the world go on like Rukia had never existed at all, and that was ontop of his failure to protect her. It wasn't the kind of thing you could brush off, and Ichigo wasn't the type of person who would even try to brush it off while there was still the smallest window for him to right what was wrong. Orihime, Chad, Uryuu; they were the same. They were all more amazing people than I gave them credit for, when it came down to it.

And then there was me. Sure, the others would be willing to take off on a rescue mission, but I was different from them. I knew more than they did. It wasn't that I afraid because of what more I knew, but I much better understood just how risky and almost literally _impossible_ the mission was. To be frank, I didn't think there was any chance in hell I'd see those four again if they left. If they had next to no qualms about busting into the Seireitei and taking on its thousands of fully trained inhabitants, they really had no clue what they were signing themselves up for. It sounded all great and dandy when you were sitting in the audience, but actually being in the center of the action was another story entirely. They were stupid and crazy. I was neither.

At the same time, I had already involved myself more than I would have liked, so why stop? How could I stop? Why not just screw it all and go full out?

I would have to plan it out carefully, if I went through with it. I'd be a lot less problematic for me than the others, since I knew the territory. They really needed an insider's help, and Urahara couldn't do more than get them there. Who else was there _but_ me? I may not have been the Holy Grail of secret weapons, but I was one advantage. They needed all the advantages, big or small, that they could get. Still, was that a good enough reason to join a sure suicide mission? For my near-extinct honor?

A peach colored blob bobbed in front of my face, knocking me from my thoughts. My eyes tried to follow the motion, only to get me dizzy and looking like a dope. While I recovered, a shrill voice assaulted my eardrums.

"What about you, Mikita-Chan?" It was Chizuru. Super. "Would you like to spend a few nights over at my house? Hm? It'll be fun! Just you and me, all alone for full days and nights with no chaperones to hold us back..."

I wondered where she got the idea that admitting she planned to rape me was decent way to get me to go along with her plan. Fortunately, I didn't have to bother with coming up with a smart-ass remark before Tatsuki stepped in and took care of things for me.

Yep, the world kept still spinning, with Rukia or without Rukia. Like it always had and always will. Even if I was the next to leave it.

* * *

The journey home seemed to take less time than it usually did for some reason. Maybe that was because it had taken a little longer to actually get out of the school building, between the celebrating vacation-goers and Keigo's nagging about rounding up the gang for a day trip. I got out free from obligation and without any impending company by the end of it, regardless. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I slid the shouten door open gracelessly, looking forward to burning my books and snacking with my BFFs, Ben and Jerry. The sight that greeted me once I got inside, though, turned my appetite sour.

Urahara.

My face must have said it all, because the little smirk on Urahara's lips morphed into a full-on grin. Her crossed his arms more securely over his chest, tucking his hands into his wide sleeves.

"Did you have a good time at school, Kita-Chan?" he questioned, full of anything but innocent intent. "Any fun plans for the summer? You know, if you aren't busy I have a few small chores you could-"

That was all I heard. I had selective hearing, and I selected garbage to be one of the things that I didn't hear.

"Mikita."

But there was the most valuable word in the world. I made sure to scowl and looked extra drowsy, but I did let Urahara know he had won, for the moment. He regarded me for a moment before taking in a breath and starting over again.

"You knew this was coming, Mikita," he said, somber. "Ever since Ichigo was given his powers, we both knew something like this would happen. It was only a matter of time before this conversation took place. You know what we have to do now. What you have to do."

The weight of the air increased by a ten-fold. My lips pursed together. There were a few things I wanted to say, but I knew better than to just let them rip without thinking. I may not have been the most tactful gal out there, but I wasn't ignorant.

"I don't _have_ to do anything," I decided, making sure my lips smacked when I opened them. "You can assume I would do something, but since when have I ever been predictable? Isn't that what sets Homo Sapiens apart from all the animals? The ability the think for themselves? Whether for the good of the world of the good of themselves?"

Rather than being discouraged, Urahara slipped back into his chipper, cover-up personality.

"Now, now, Kita-Chan, don't be so heartless," he crooned. "You could be a big help. Besides, you need to get out and do something. Adventure just came knocking at your door, so how can you deny it? Who would turn down the chance to take part in a real life fairytale? They'll be puzzles and battles; hideous beasts to slay; new lands; new fiends; some romance, perhaps..."

My face held no expression what-so-ever. He was barking up the wrong tree. He wasn't making it sound like a trip to Chucky Cheese's; what was so fun about going to an unwelcoming place where everyone wanted to kill you? Besides, there was a hideous beast I wouldn't mind slaying, but it was way closer to home than the in the Soul Society.

"The bottom line is, Kita-Chan," Urahara said, noting my lack of enthusiasm and aborting his original plan, "I want you to do your part in aiding Kurosaki-Kun."

I blinked. I wouldn't say the request was unexpected, but the way it was delivered was. It was to-the-point, but Urahara didn't bother to take down his walls when he confessed it. That was a little odd, since he usually _only_ took down his walls when it came to serious spiritual things.

Taking my silence as a cue to continue, Urahara went on. "Think about it. I'm sure you'd both benefit from it; Kurosaki-Kun gets to work with one of his classmates, and you'll get to refresh your own training!" My expression obviously gave away my less-than-thrilled feelings over the idea, so Urahara hastily added, "Although you'll be doing some training yourself, you'll also be there to oversee Kurosaki-Kun's. He'll be under _your_ charge and look to you for direction. His weaknesses are your strengths, after all, so he'll really have no choice but to follow your lead in those respects. How does that sound?"

"..."

Now _that_ was the Golden Ticket to my heart. It sounded like a dream scenario. Me being Ichigo's part-time, Soul Reaper sensei? He would _die_ when he found out!

Whether figuratively or literally is yet to be known.


	9. Chapter 9

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Ichigo ran heels over head through the streets of Karakura Town like a Japanese Forrest Gump who ate too many carrots. There was no fear or uncertainty on his face; he was a man on a mission. But before he could carry out his mission, he needed a bit more training. The only person on Earth who could act as his mentor for said training just so happened to live in the same town, only a few blocks down the road. (Lucky guy, that Ichigo). Nothing was going to stand in his way or make him falter for a moment.

...Besides a leg poping out of a bush and tripping the poor boy in the middle of his marathon. Now, who would possibly go and do a thing like that?

Ichigo fell hard, plummeting to the ground faster than his brain could function. His body connected with the ground with a bang, backed up by both his body weight and the force of his sprint. Even I couldn't help but wince as his face skidded across the pavement from residual inertia. Once he settled, though, and let out a pathetic little whimper, that wince turned into a basket full of giggles. I had my work cut out for me; the kid couldn't even dodge a foot.

My mini humor fest somehow brought me to a short session of bathing in the setting sun rays. Maybe it was just me, but opening my eyes up once they closed, for whatever, was harder than a pickle. Besides, the sun was best enjoyed when it was low in the sky at the end of the day - at the end of a long, super strenuous day.

But it sucked when some jerk went and blocked out your light source.

I peeled an eye open, feeling a small sum of fear well up within me. Sure enough, Ichigo didn't exactly look like he'd enjoyed his fall quite as much as I had.

I forced a dilapidated grin onto my face to try to ease the situation, probably looking like the bride of Chuckie. "Hey, Mikan - er, Ichigo! How are ya? Aha..."

The carrot-top angled his head, allowing the fading sunlight to both catch and shadow his face in a few key places. If I looked like the bride of Chuckie, then Ichigo's face was definitely that of Chuckie himself. (They even had the same unruly orange hair!). I knew at that moment I was about to die.

"Kame..."

For a moment I thought the Devil in the flesh had sought me out. Any hubris I had been feeling hitherto had been gulped up by some courage-sucking parasite. I was no better than the Cowardly Lion - though less hairy. But also less bulky and lacking of sharp teeth and claws. Still, lions were the kings of the jungle, weren't they? Lions dominated vegetation! Lions chewed fruit up and spat it out! And I would do the same to this citrus boy, by law of the food chain.

With that rejuvenating thought I held Ichigo's stare, keeping my expression just as stony as his. I made sure to hold back the twitch that itched under the pressure, keeping my gaze even and obdurate. It seemed to work after a moment, since the killing intent Ichigo was sending my way lessened enough for me to see the real boy underneath it all.

"Uh...Kame?"

I kept my face smooth, completely empty of all emotion. I wouldn't crack just because he had.

"Kame?"

Blank.

"Kame."

Nothing.

"Kame!"

I sneezed. Crap.

I ducked my head, trying to clean the snot from my face as quickly as possible. Was it just me, or did everyone's body seem more likely to make a mess of itself in public?

I came back up when the mucus had all been rubbed into my sleeve and squinted at the silhouette standing over me. Evening was a bad time for Ichigo; he blended right in with the sky.

"Ichigo," I greeted, my voice coated in a sugary muck of faux friendliness and surprise. "I didn't see you there. Where did you come from?"

I sounded like Urahara. Disgraceful.

I predicted the appearance of Ichigo's infamous scowl beforehand. The boy grunted, squatted down to put us on an even level and slapped me a look that was anything but consoling. I nearly grimaced at the sight of his smoldering red, blistering cheek. What a horrible profile. I should have just Ding-Dong-Ditched it.

"Mikita." His voice was clouded with a calmness that only came before the most devastating of storms. I squeaked in reply, not quite trusting myself with words. "Did you just hide in a bush and trip me?"

I laughed with grotesque exaggeration. "What? Me? No, of course not! Foolish mortal, would I do something that cruel?"

_Yes._

I knew the three letter word flashed through both of our minds in that moment. I coughed as cover-up and got down to business.

"Anyway," I said, bundling up some confidence that had been hanging out in my bowels, "we're not here to discuss your lack of grace, endurance, instincts, or anything of the sort."

Ichigo grit his teeth. "What do you mean by that? Nobody could dodge that kind of cheap shot-"

"Don't interrupt me, Ichigo," I barked. I took a moment to take in his sour-apples attitude before going on. "We're here to discuss your lack of grace, endurance, instincts, and everything of the sort."

"But you just said-"

"Hush." I wrestled with my limbs, pulling myself up into a cross-legged position to even our stare and maximize my image of authority. Ichigo was a worm about it, but he was willing to listen. "We all know there's no chance you'll be able to make an impression on the Soul Society with the condition you're in now, so Urahara and me are going to whip you into shape before the deadline, Billy Blanks style." I smirked, regaining my flare for tyranny. "You don't want to keep Rukia waiting, do you, Ichigo?"

"Rukia..." Ichigo muttered, the word only serving as an empty expression. He looked up from the concrete, which he'd been clenching, and my my gaze with hardened eyes.

"You're going to teach me about this Soul Reaper stuff and help me to get stronger? You, personally?" Ichigo demanded, leaving no hint of a question. I gave him one curt nod, and he leapt at it. "So you're a Soul Reaper too, then? If you know so much about the Soul Society and Soul Reapers then you must be, right?"

I didn't respond that time, but Ichigo didn't seem to care. He was back in his own world, drawing his own conclusions.

The big-headed troll was in for a rude awakening one of these days if he kept that up.

* * *

"Whoa! Amazing! Who'd have know there was such a _huge_ subterranean space under the store?"

"Me."

Hadn't Urahara ever heard of using his "inside voice"? Just because the training room looked like it was a wasteland didn't give him right to treat it like one. He deserved to have his parade rained on for being such a jejune loud-mouth.

"Shut up," Ichigo voiced, apparently sharing my sentiment. "Obviously you knew this was down here. You don't have to shout for me. I'm already surprised enough."

The last statement was accompanied by a glare my way. I grinned easily, waving aside his hostility.

"Don't be a sour sport, Kurosaki," I said. "Take responsibility for your own mistakes."

"You chucked me down a black hole, Kame! How was any of that my fault?"

"I wouldn't have had to force you down if you'd just listened."

"Is being told to go down some pit in a storage room supposed be normal advice?"

I blinked. That was actually a pretty reasonable point of view; Ichigo had obviously seen _The Silence of the Lambs_. But still, I was always right, so he was wrong. Ichigo was supposed to be trusting us (me and Urahara) to guide him in regaining his spiritual powers; _we_ weren't the ones who had gotten him into this conundrum, were we? Whiner.

"Let's just get on with it already," Ichigo receded, crossing his arms. "This study-group or whatever."

The kid had no idea what he was signing up for.

* * *

As it turned out, _I_ had had no idea what I was signing up for.

Phase One of the training session had been close to epic, I admit. Ururu had totally owned Ichigo in physical battle, and seeing the latter running for dear life from a grade school girl was the kind of thing that made me wish I knew more people who I could pass the image along to. Even Phase Two, which involved Ichigo hog-tied at the bottom of yet another ditch, wasn't much less than great. (Tessai was down there as well, posing as damage control. It was sort of like a pedo posing as a priest; Ichigo was so getting raped.)

But the carnival did get old. Especially when a certain someone had lied about me being an active part of it rather than just a member of the audience.

"You have a total of seventy-two hours to make it out of the Shattered Shaft, Ichigo," Urahara said, further explaining the second lesson. If that was supposed to sound ominous, the sentiment vroomed right over my head, since the only thing I was thinking about was how pornographic the title "Shattered Shaft" sounded. "That's the time it will take for your Chain of Fate to complete the encroachment. By the end of that period, if you have not returned to the top of the shaft as a Shinigami, then we will have no choice, Ichigo, but to kill you."

I yawned. Seventy-two hours of watching Ichigo acting like a fool in a hole? Tempting, but I'll pass for the first seventy or so. That would be missing out on much too much beauty sleep and chow time.

I didn't bother to announce my departure to any of the others, since they were all a little too engrossed in watching something that was going to be around for three full days. I would spend those three full days enjoying an entire house-slash-candy shop to myself.

Suckers.

* * *

It was late. Didn't know what time. But it was the second day of Ichigo's training. I think.

The shouten didn't have a family room, exactly, but there was something like a spare junk room that served the purpose well enough. It had a TV, anyway, which was the only thing I really cared about. I could handle camping out on the floor while watching it.

There really was nothing like having the house to yourself for a night or two. The only downside was the inevitable weight gain due to non-stop lounging and chowing, but it was still worth it at the end of the book. Well, there was the slightly terrifying experience of being home alone once the sun went down, too. I could take on a bugler, though. Fo sho.

Urahara just took me by surprise, the bastardly ninja.

"Having a good time, Kita-Chan?"

I'm sure he must have noticed me stiffen despite the television as the only light source, but I doubted his nose was good enough to smell the few drops of urine that I couldn't hold in.

I didn't respond right away, but stared straight ahead at the Craig Ferguson Show as if I hadn't heard Urahara. Once I had regain my cool, my lips parted.

"Yup. You?"

Urahara let out a single chuckle. "If you want to call it that."

And from there the conversation stilted. Six gay babies were born.

"You should be down there with us, you know. This opportunity is as beneficial for you as it is for Ichigo."

I raised a brow, finally turning to face my guest. "The only way it would have been beneficial to me was if I got to kick the kid around a little, which I didn't. Unless that's Phase Three?"

Urahara's face, which was already pretty grim, darkened even more.

"Ichigo would tear you down in a second, Mikita, and your big talk can't change that," he said, the words riding out on an exhale. "You never fully dedicated yourself to your original training, and it's been such a long time since you abandoned it that you'd basically be starting off from scratch if you tried to pick it up again now."

I hesitated, not sure how I wanted to react to the facts of life being pointed out to me. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm up here and not down there then, huh? Saves all of us the trouble."

"You know," Urahara hummed, his eyes glinting in the dim lighting as they caught mine, "I'm not sure it is a good thing. A little bit of trouble can go a long way in the right direction."

I was uncomfortable and I knew I wasn't doing such a stellar job of hiding it. I looked back at the TV, fumbled for the remote control, and started flicking through channels for no reason at all.

"So investing a lot of trouble into Ichigo should turn him into freakin' Hercules, no?" I said. "I'll be selfless here and give him the honor of saving the world."

I wasn't stupid. I knew what Urahara was trying to say between all the tongues, but I wasn't going to take the bait. He could suck it. He could suck it hard. Long and hard.

I could feel Urahara's stare on me, but I kept my eyes on the screen like a zombie, still channel surfing. I was waiting for Urahara to make the next move, but at the same time I already knew what would be coming. Maybe it was just that expectation itself that made me so antsy, but either way I was unwilling to wait for the inevitable.

"Look," I said, dropping the remote and turning to face Urahara instead. "I know you and the cosmos collaborated to organize some kind of Ninja Warrior deal here, but I've somehow developed a sense of free will since evolving from the apes. I'm staying out of it, okay?"

Urahara didn't really look like he was okay with it, judging from his expression, but I wasn't exactly asking for his permission. What could he do about it? As juvenile as it sounded, he couldn't make me do a damn thing if I didn't want to.

After staring me down for what felt like the length of a presidential speech, Urahara backed off with a sigh and head rub.

"I see," was all he said about it. He didn't try to put on that phony goof-ball act of his when he looked up again, but he also didn't seem like he was all that disappointed. "You never have been one to respond well to Procrustean methods, so I suppose trying to convince you to change your mind wouldn't do me any good."

I didn't know what the word "Procrustean" meant, but I go the gist of it based on the context. As glad as I should have been that Urahara wasn't going to put more effort into making me see things his way, a small part of me was a little not-so-thrilled that I apparently wasn't important enough to fight for.

But still, I won, right?

I nodded once, both to my own thoughts and Urahara's, before turning to what turned out to be a rerun of _The Nanny_.

"Feel free to come join us at any time," Urahara offered. "You know where we'll be."

I brought a hand up some form of a wave. Urahara's footsteps were faint, but the clicking of his wooden sandals faded into the interior of the house. When I was sure he was gone, I was glaring at Fran a little more intensely than she probably deserved.

My eyes dropped to my lap, where I fiddling with my thumb ring. Even if I considered humoring Urahara by becoming one of his dancing monkeys, the likelihood that I would take any action towards it was only slightly above zero. Consideration was a waste of time, just like so many other things going on around me. Why didn't anyone else see it the same way I did?

Instead, I struggled up to my feet and made for the store portion of the building. Candy was calling, and candy was one thing that was never a waste of time.

* * *

"Hey, you getting hungry down there yet?"

It was a below-the-belt taunt when directed at a kid who was stuck in a hole for seventy-two hours, and I would have expected nothing less of Jinta. But was there more to it? Wasn't getting hungry dangerous or something for a Plus (or whatever the hell Ichigo was at that point in time)? I didn't really remember.

(And anyway, who could not be hungry after going so long without food? How was Jinta himself not hungry? Or, better yet, in need of a restroom or nap?)

I dragged my feet along the training arena, closing in on the epicenter of the noise. Yeah, I'd caved. Mostly just because I'd gotten bored, and the deadline for Ichigo's Hollofication was almost up anyway. It wasn't like I was going to go into kung-fu fighter mode myself or anything; I was just there to see a live-action show that would hopefully be worth climbing up and down that mile-long latter.

"It's okay to feel thirsty, though," Jinta went on, leering over the cliff's edge. "And if you do get thirst, go ahead and drink my spit."

I paused in my steps, watching with wide eyes as Jinta, laying flat on his belly, leaned over the sharp decline in the earth. "C'mon, Ururu, get over here. You can do it, too."

The two children harmonized without any sign of a quarrel, finding common ground in spitting on their elder. I had never been more proud. They had finally found a suitable activity to do together. The sibling bonding had begun.

"I wonder if it's dark out side yet," Urahara said. He was standing a bit off from me, although I wasn't sure if he'd been there all along or wandered over while I was distracted. "It's hard to tell from this room."

I didn't bother to dig up the energy to answer. Was he trying to make small talk? Bozo.

It was after only a few moments of standing around like geeks that some kind of gust picked up, swirling around the walls of the pit. And not just one of those spring breeze type of deals; it was a mini tornado that stank of damnation.

"Alright," Jinta commented, "looks like he's gonna become a Hollow after all."

It did look like it, but most Visual Kei artists also looked like women. You couldn't judge anything at first glance. Ichigo could still pull some miracle off at the last minute. If anyone could, it was him.

Ururu flexed a green-bean-ish arm. "I've got to go down there and help."

"Hold on," Urahara asserted. "Watch him closely, nothing more. Usually when a Whole becomes a Hollow their physical body explodes and then reforms. But in his case, the order is all mixed up. The mask is beginning to form while his body is still a Whole. This is a sign that he is resisting. There is still a strong possibility that he'll become a Soul Reaper, so let's just watch and see."

My mind was stuck on the image of Ichigo exploding. How _rad_ did that sound? At least if the kid did give up, he would go out in style.

As light-hearted as I tried to be about it all, Ichigo's screams got to me as they continued, sending goose bumps up my arms. Those kinds of wails were no joke. He had to have been suffering, but was he in pain or just reacting to such a drastic, sudden change?

Either way, it was getting to me, like I said. I was ready to evacuate the situation as nothing but a spectator, so how could Ichigo still be hanging in there when he was the one going through it? I really didn't understand that kind of conviction.

"He's at his absolute limit, boss," Tessai's voice echoed from the pit of the crater. "I'm switching into suppression mode!"

"Hey, careful down there, Tessai," Jinta added, his brow pinched. "If you do all that to him at once, he could die!"

I bounced back and forth on my feet, not liking the experience at all. It wasn't so fun when there was something so serious on the line. What if Ichigo really did die? I might have joked about it, but I didn't actually want it to happen. I should have just stayed upstairs.

"I can't hold him any longer," Tessai announced. "He must be destroyed immediately before he becomes a Hollow."

Tessai's kidou advanced to the third level, making a huge _something_ appear above our heads before plummeting into the depths of the pit. I had enough sense to know the move wouldn't be as simple as one of those cartoon pianos falling on Wile Coyote's head. It was an unconscious act, but when I opened my eyes after a blink I was a football field's length away from the spot where I'd been standing previously. I barely had the time to process that fact when an explosion was set off from Ichigo's (literal, perhaps) grave.

I clenched my teeth at the near supersonic boom, using one of my arms to shield my eyes from the burning flames that shot out of the crater's mouth.

"Look at that! Something's shooting out of it!"

I glanced to the side, seeing that Urahara had grabbed Jinta and Ururu before using his own Shunpo to escape immediate danger. I hadn't even spared a thought for their safety.

I got over my lack of maternal instinct without another thought, though. I turned back to the scene, and, sure enough, a burning ball had separated from the inferno. It soared through the air like a comet before crashing to the earth with the same force. Once it hit the ground and settled, so did the miniature Hell it had branched from.

"Just what is that?" Jinta asked after a couple of beats. Collectively, we all moved in. "Hey, is that you? Answer me, Carrot-Top!" When there was no answer, Jinta's voice took on a slight shake. "If you're alright, answer me!"

The smoke that had been hanging around burned off some more, revealing a silhouette. The parking-cone hair was Ichigo's without a doubt, but there were a few pretty important alterations to his image - like the Hollow's mask and glowing red eyes. But then, there was a shihakushou thrown in there as well. So, which was it? Was that even possible? Part Hollow, part Reaper, and (maybe) part human?

Whatever he was, the Ichigo-hybrid lifted an arm to grab hold of the sword slung over his shoulder. Ururu and Jinta fell into defensive positions but, rather than attack, the man used the hilt of his sword to smash the mask on his face.

Low and behold, it really was a living Ichigo.

So what do you know: good wins out over evil. Despite the predictability of the ending, I was inexpressibly happy with it. Just don't tell anyone.

* * *

Lesson Three commenced. A fight between Urahara and Ichigo lead to what else but Ichigo's acquiring of a zanpakutou. (Zangetsu, if I heard correctly. It was a pretty wussy name for a killing machine if you asked me, but Urahara's Benihime wasn't any better). There were, of course, a few too many stop-and-tell-a-story pauses in the struggle, but they helped to put Ichigo to sleep when it was all finally over, at least.

(But maybe that was just the fact that he'd been awake and in an extremely high stress mode for four straight days. Who knows? Not I.)

The only thing that really took me aback by it all was its effect on me. Ichigo and his buddies may have been willing to march into the Soul Society, but I was the one who had had reservations about it - wise reservations, if I could be so bold to say.

In the aftermath of Ichigo's training, though, I was almost _itching_ to make our move.

Okay, so I may not have been in the best physical condition. I may not have had the most experience. But I was street smart, if that counted for anything, and I didn't let my emotions control me. Those two factors were lacking in the rest of the crew and, for what was ahead of us, they may have been two of the most important when it came to preserving our own lives. It was all well and good that these kids wanted to save Rukia, but what good would it do anyone if both the rescue team and Rukia herself choked?

Besides, I'd been in the same town with the same people since before electricity had been invented. It was time for a change of scenery at the very least, wasn't it?

I was in, for better or worse. Maybe I would regret it, and maybe I wouldn't. I wouldn't know unless I tried, and what did I have to lose? Call me cocky or crazy or whatever, but I had a feeling that if anyone were to die on this mission, it wasn't going to be me. But me being there could revent some of the dying. Maybe. Just _maybe_.

But probably not.

Still, how could I possibly make the situation any worse by being a more prominent part of it? How could the situation get any worse? I could only help. Even a crippled pidgeon could only help.

Those guys _needed_ me. And who was I to deny a friend or five in need?

Besides, kicking ass was like riding a bike, wasn't it? Urahara was just being dramatic, as usual. I would be fine and fierce and back in action. I would make Urahara eat his foot.

Or die trying, I guess, but it was a chance I was willing to take.


	10. Chapter 10

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Like every year hitherto, the Fireworks Festival marked the start of the summer season. All the towns folk skipped down to the riverside to play rigged carnival games, eat overpriced artery-cloggers, and crane their necks to see some basic scientific combustion, all the while totally oblivious to the creeps taking advantage of their unprotected back pockets. The crowds were thick and loud, full of a celebrating proletarians who didn't give a damn about who they bumped in to or cut in line.

Definitely not my kind of scene. I was better off at home scoffing at the losers contracting all kinds of germs out there in the mile-wide can of human sardines.

In lieu of the festival I did indeed hang around the Shouten by myself, munching on my own free junk food and laying back into the squishy pillows on my bed. Even when the sun wasn't completely set, the echoing booms of fireworks and peoples' responding whoops still reached the shop, filling the otherwise silent walls. It was actually kind of relaxing, to tell you the truth; almost like having the T.V. on low volume so that just that smidgen of a hum made it so your didn't go crazy in the silence. That - sprawled back with a bag of Smartfood Popcorn in one hand and the other transporting the kernels from the bag to my mouth - was the life for me.

I was more than aware, however, that the rest of my company was using the festival as their last hurrah, in a sense. For Ichigo, Orihime, and Chad, the night out was probably the last time they were really going to see their friends and family, not to mention get to act like the teenagers they didn't seem to realize they were. (Uryuu was, of course, an antisocial worm). It was only going to go downhill once the sun rose for us all.

I was left to wonder, in all seriousness, if those kids even knew what they were getting themselves into. I mean, they could _die_. There was no turning back from that one. And all for a person that they barely even knew, who couldn't have possibly made such a major impact on their lives in so little time. Shouldn't it take something more like a lifetime to form that kind of bond, if it were even possible to be created at all? It wasn't a scenario that most fifteen-year-olds - or even most fully-grown people - would recognize or own up to. Were the moral obligations of the typical teenager so warped? What could Rukia possibly have done to have earned her such indissoluble loyalty?

Or was the water just defective in Karakura Town?

They were freaks, the whole lot of them. Willing to throw their lives away for something completely out of their control; they were probably just too wimpy to attempt suicide and saw the Rukia situation as their way out.

Whatever, it was their death wish.

But wait, need I bring up the fact that I would be tagging along on this little escapade myself? I wasn't exactly an exile like Urahara, but I would be if I survived this trip. It didn't bother me much, since I hadn't exactly planned to go vacationing in the Rukongai any time soon, but it was still a whole lot of trouble for something that I didn't really care about. I was constantly questioning why I was doing it at all. Boredom or curiosity weren't good reasons to put your life on the line, were they? Where had my sense ran off to? What exactly was it that was pulling me?

Despite my uncertainty about his motivation, I knew that Ichigo had the best chance out of any of them to survive. Chad could handle himself well enough, too, and Uryuu would probably be rejected by the afterlife even if he did get himself cut in half. That was assuming that they didn't find themselves facing any of the big-leagues, though. Unseated officers gave me no reason to worry, but we'd already seen what happened when you put a dumb Furby in front of the best the Soul Society had to offer. The league of just slightly above ordinary gentlemen would have to pick their battles this time around. If they were smart about it, they may have a chance.

And then there was Orihime.

She was toast. I didn't understand why she was a part of it all in the first place; didn't she herself, if not the boys who were going to have to baby-sit her, realize she was nothing but a good-hearted liability? Her healing was great, but on the offensive side she was as helpful as a jar of mayonnaise. The cons of her presence outscored the pros, in my eyes. Ichigo and the others couldn't afford to drag around dead weight when they already had all the odds against them.

It was a shame that Orihime hadn't been the one to lose her powers, really, because then we could have just not given them back. Urahara most have had some kind of trick up his sleeves that could take Orihime out of the equation, but for whatever reason he must have had a plan for her. I didn't have to agree with it, but I did have to ride it out, or at the very least watch it fall apart.

"Meow."

Effing cat. How the hell did it get in my room? Away, beast.

"Ahem, _me-ow_."

...

Did the cat just clear its throat?

The pygmy black demon leaped up to join me on the bed (I stiffened, trying my best to inch away without actually moving) and pranced up to my elbow, staring me down. Yes, down. I was laying back, remember? The filthy rat was taller than me. Dominating, even.

My lips curled after a prolonged moment, the eerie game of "don't be the first to blink" getting queer.

"Hey," I voiced awkwardly, nudging the thing with the side of my arm. "Go away."

It just kept staring, looking almost deadpanned.

Weren't black cats supposed to be bad luck? They were always associated with witches and dark magic, so that meant that they were obviously evil. Didn't Urahara know about any of those facts? Why would he open his doors to this devil?

The feline sighed.

Yes, sighed. Deeply, like it was frustrated or something. The Smartfood remains on my tongue suddenly tasted like dirt.

"You really haven't figured it out yet, Mikita?" I swear, the voice sounded like it was coming from the cat. It's mouth was even moving. What a strange, terrifying coincidence. "I always knew you were a bit of a moron, but this is just getting ridiculous. No matter, we have important things to talk about."

Holy. Jesus. Mary. And. Joseph. On. A. Bicycle. The kitty just spoke to me.

It lifted it's head, eyebrows knitting lightly. "Mikita? Are you breathing?"

I didn't respond, the veins in my head pounding for some reason. It had spoken again. Definitely possessed. Satan, maybe. Taking over an animal's body. The Apocalypse. The world was cursed to its end. Doomed.

The cat bared its teeth, its golden eyes narrowing in anger. "Idiot girl, snap out of it!"

Damn, those teeth were pretty huge. Well, not really, but still. The cat had resorted to snarling, a chilling hiss raising the hackles of its back. Like a gremlin that had been drenched in water.

Wait, Gremlin...Water…

I bolted. I fell out of bed (making sure to jam my foot into the cat's gut as a parting gift) and managed to make it to my feet after only three attempts foiled by tripping. After that, I made for the kitchen like a full-bladdered race horse.

Once I cleared the room, I skidded over the cupboard and yanked it open, my feet sliding on the floor and the scenery a blur on both sides. I used my free hand to pull on the tap controls of the sink, and it wasn't long before I was filling up a glass. The water, though, was running like ketchup.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," I ordered the pipes. Who knows whether or not the cat had followed me? It could be behind me, ready to pounce, at any second!

It was with a triumphant "ha-ha!" that I booked it out of the kitchen and back towards the bedrooms, my glass finally full and the faucet shut off. (Because I had to point out that last bit to show that I do care about ecology, people.)

When I turned the corner into the hallway my heels dug into the floor, slowing me to a stop. I scrutinized the area, taking caution as I took in every nook, shadow, and cranny that a cat could be capable of curling up in. Finding nothing, I moved on towards my bedroom at a stalker's pace. But something was off there.

It was closed. Why? Did I do that? Had I shut it after running out? Score! Brilliant, Mikita. I needed to become a ninja, for sure. Ninjas were too cool for conventional school.

The sequence of events was like what happened in every one of those "The scariest movie since…!" horror movies you've ever seen. Each of my steps was extended and deliberate. Silent, but heavy. Time was almost going backwards as I made it to my door, my breath audible and oddly even. I reached out, my fingernails brushing along the material on the handle before -

A shot like a gun rang out, igniting so suddenly that I swear my spleen bumped into my tonsils. I yelped, pulling one of my knees up to my chest and bringing my shoulders down to meet it, making a complete, flamingo-esque fool of myself. But that wasn't even the worst part.

The glass of glorious, live-saving water tumbled to the floor and dispersed across the wood like a pool of pee.

I was screwed. Utterly screwed. And a little wet.

It also didn't help that a certain ball of black fluff just happened to be sitting right behind my bedroom door as it slid open. It was like it was waiting for me, cool as a cucumber all the while.

Just as it had all those minutes ago, the miniature beast could only heave a heavy sigh at the sight of me. "Are you going to cooperate now or do you need more time to gather your wits?"

It patronized as well as spoke. And its voice was awfully patron-y; obviously male, low in octave, with an edge of sass. I might have actually found the idea of a sassy talking cat stellar if he didn't want to eat me. It would have been like my own personal Puss in Boots.

With nothing more clever or heroic in mind to do, I settled with Plan B. I screamed, long and hard, calling out for Urahara.

The cat winced. Then growled. "Would you shut up?"

My lips smacked together, the yell trapped behind them. Man, that pussy was fierce.

The boy-cat let out something of a groan, regarding me through eyes the width of a pin. "I really don't see why you're making such a fuss over this. It isn't as if we've never spoken before."

I bit my lip, wondering if it would be a good idea to back talk the vermin holding my life in its hands. Or paws. Whatever. Unfortunately, my defensive instincts overran my common sense.

"You just made the sky explode with your freaky Harry Potter powers, Mr. McGonagall," I said, sounding only about one fifty-sixth as frazzled as I was on the inside. "I have every right to make 'such a fuss over this'."

It might not have been the most prudent thing to say, but it was what came spewing out.

The feline's response was similar to Tatsuki's usual reaction to my verbal diarrhea. "Those were fireworks, you idiot. Perhaps you haven't noticed the festival going on outside?

The comeback arsenal in my brain had a few false starts, but ultimately there was no ammo to throw back at the truth. Fireworks festivals, those had fireworks in them. I was an idiot.

Sir Kitty seemed to have released all of its tension on the floor boards (now stylishly decorated with eight puncture wounds, via his claws) and relaxed, regaining his composure and slinking off towards my bed. "We don't have time for this. Come with me, Mikita. We need to have a serious discussion while there's still time."

Against all of my better judgment I followed, settling down at the edge of my mattress.

"Now," the boy-cat sighed, falling into a seated position with odd regalness, "I expect that you plan to go into the Soul Society with others tonight, right?" I decided to let the fact that he had just rhymed fly and nodded. He continued. "So I needn't mention the danger you'll be putting yourself in by entering the same place you chose to flee all of those years ago?"

His words brought back a few vague memories, but none were half as traumatic as he made it sound.

"Well, it's not like I'm technically on the run or anything," I reasoned, choosing my words and tone wisely to show that I was capable of stringing together valid thoughts from time to time. I couldn't have a cat stand me up in noodle prowess. "I doubt anyone will even recognize or remember me; they'll just think I'm one of the Ryoka."

Boy-cat (what the hell was its name? Urahara talked about the stupid thing so much I never thought I'd forget) regarded me gravely. "Yes, but that in itself is a great threat to your life. Regardless of whether or not your identity is discovered, there will be suspicions if you ever find yourself engaged in battle."

"Nah," I said, waving off the possibility. "No one will ever know. And even if they did, no one would even care. I didn't learn how to fight or anything until I came to the World of the Living, so there's nothing to recognize. Besides, I really don't plan on getting into any battles."

My furry pedagogue apparently didn't like my brand of logic, since his ears flattening some. "How can you sign yourself up for this type of mission and not expect to get yourself into a battle?"

"I'm a girl. It's the man's job to protect me. I'll just stay behind Ichigo the entire time, and then run to Chad if Ichigo gets sliced down."

Nope. The cat definitely didn't like my brand of logic. It looked kind of ridiculous when it was angry, which was a pleasant surprise.

"Calm down," I said in false assurance. "I was kidding. But still, I don't see what you're so worried about."

It kept glaring for a bit before letting out a breath of air. "I suppose I may be overreacting," it admitted, grudgingly. Not another second later, its eyes were back to smoldering. "But if there's one person you must watch out for, it is the captain of the Second Division."

I tilted my head. "Huh? Yoruichi? Why?"

And then, the demon was back.

"_Are you kidding me_?"

The cat may not have yelled outright , but there was enough depth to its ire that it seemed to echo.

"What's your problem?" I asked, trying not to quail.

A hiss built up in the back of the cat's throat, the hair along its spine standing on end. "You insensate fool, how have you not realized by now that I _am_ Yoruichi?"

My lips slipped downward. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not. Yoruichi's a girl. And a human…oid. I don't believe you."

And then, as if by magic, there was no longer a cat in front of me. Instead, there was a woman bending over my bed. A dark-skinned woman with searing yellow eyes. I recognized her as the real Yoruichi without a problem. She'd barely changed a bit over the past century.

Only, you know, I had never seen that much of her, and I couldn't say I had ever wanted to. Would you want to see a naked woman crouching over you in bed?

The silence past at an average pace while my eyes trailed down the older woman's body until I was sure she wasn't a mirage. And right about when I realize it was real, I also realized that I didn't like it.

"Put some clothes on, you filthy nudist!"

There was no need, for the cat was back in place by the time I uncovered my eyes (from whenever I had shut them and flinched back from the deeply disturbing view of, well, you know. Girl parts are gross, if you haven't noticed.)

My breathing was a few blocks away from normal, since I had been traumatized for life and all. I looked around both frantically and thoroughly, seeing no sign of the humanoid form of Yoruichi. Which was perfectly explainable, seeing as how she was disguised as a cat right in front of me.

I coughed awkwardly. "I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Why are you a boy when you turn into a cat?"

Yoruichi deadpanned. I had that split second to wonder if she turned into a male cat when she transformed, as in male parts, male hormones, and all those biological bits. Where was the gender distinction? But I went on, not even really caring about the answer to my first question. "Why do I need to watch out for you in the Soul Society?"

Yoruichi came back to life, likely glad that I had steered to more relevant matters. "Not me, obviously. Do you think I remained a captain after deserting the Seireitei? No, the person who took my place was Soi Fon."

I nodded, just to maintain the mood. Who the hell was Soi Fon? Was I supposed to know who that was?

"You know how much trouble she could cause if the two of you cross paths. She's one of the very select few who may realize your connection to Urahara and I, and she will not take your appearance lightly in the least."

Hm. I sounded like I really should have known who Soi Fon was. It was too bad that I didn't.

"But I have a question of my own, Mikita," Yoruichi said, sounding more relaxed and genuinely curious. "How did you not know this was me? You didn't think it was strange that Urahara would address a cat as 'Yoruichi'? And you must have interacted with me in this form before, no?"

The answer to that one was one of my favorite auto-responses. "I forgot."

Yoruichi deadpanned again. "Somehow, I'm not surprised by that."

We elapsed into more silence. I looked Yoruichi up and down. If there was someone I should try to avoid in the Soul Society (or even just for the hell of it) why didn't she just teach me how to shape-shift, too? I wouldn't even mind turning into a boy animal, if that was part of the deal. There were a few things about the opposite sex that I was curious about anyway.

In all seriousness, I had figured all along that I would try to keep a low profile once I left the Human World. Wasn't the point of it not to draw attention to ourselves so we could get to Rukia as efficiently as possible? Or was I the only one who thought that entering with a bang was a bad idea? Could the rest of them really be that stupid?

Well, we'll see.

I glanced up again, watching Yoruichi's tail flicker. "Yoruichi, I have another question." She gave me a nonverbal, permissive response. "Are you using a bar of soap or your tongue these days? Because someone's been using my shower gel, and I'm pretty sure it's between you and Tessai."

* * *

One AM.

One freaking AM.

Was it really necessary to make our departure time one AM? Was it still going to be one AM in the Soul Society? Were we supposed to crawl over the gate under the cover of darkness like your stereotypical burglar? Wasn't security usually heightened at night?

Moronic mole, that Urahara.

I kicked at the dirt, disregarding the chatter going on around me. Did I have to be treated like I was on the same level as my co-conspirators? I got that this was their first time doing something so big, but couldn't I have used this briefing time to sleep some more? I was more focused on making sleeping while standing possible than the conversation. Unfortunately, I was surrounded by enthusiastic dolts.

"Wow!"

"Hey, how about givin' me a little warning next time?"

"So, Ichigo, you're not inside this Ichigo anymore?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm some kind of doll with changeable outfits!"

I cast a sort-of sour glance towards my classmates. I really didn't understand how kids these days could be so uncaring about, you know, their lives. This wasn't just any ol' field trip to the aquarium. Their attitudes were deplorable.

Almost as deplorable as Uryuu's medieval nurse costume. He was tarnishing the reputation of the Quincy race with that style.

For some weird reason, I found myself thinking about their families after that. Uryuu probably didn't have anyone at home who was too concerned about him, considering they had let him leave the house in that outfit. Chad and Orihime may have been orphans, but they had to have people out there who cared about them. How could they push that sentiment aside so easily? Didn't they realize how their own actions could affect others? The only reason they were wrapped up in this at all was because they were dedicated to Ichigo, who was, in turn, dedicated to this lost cause. Couldn't people learn to use their heads over their hearts sometimes?

Maybe I was just a soulless bee-otch, but I was almost looking forward to the point where I could say "I told you so".

Then again, I was just as big of a dufus for going along with them even when I felt the way I did.

The bright glow of the Senkaimon, the gate that would take us to the Spirit World, was an almost welcomed distraction from my pessimism. I stared at the massive structure before glancing down at the ring on my thumb, watching the way it reflected the light.

"So, everybody ready?" Urahara questioned, his normal surfer-dude tones contradicting the cryptic look in his eyes. "As soon as it opens, run in as fast as you can. Good luck."

I took a deep breath, puffing out my chest and preparing for the plunge. At the very least I would be meeting new people on this trip, wouldn't I? More than a few of them were likely to be hot, since they were the soldier-types and everything. Maybe that red-headed hunk of a Reaper would be there, too. (Well, duh, he would _be there_). It would just be fated if we ran into each other again, wouldn't it?

The glow of the gate got so intense that I couldn't look directly at it. And that was our cue to run.

* * *

I had to admit, watching five trolls rolling around like a heap of monkeys was a decent way to start off our adventure in the Soul Society. I didn't understand why everyone couldn't be as level-headed and awesome in the face of danger as I was; while they were all stressing back there in the tunnel when Uryuu's cape had been caught in The Cleaner, I did the logical thing and just kept running. Those who fall behind get left behind, after all. If they'd followed Jack Sparrow's law they could have saved themselves a ton of trouble. Even Yoruichi (in cat form, of course) got herself roped into the dork fest. The world was going down hill due to that plethora of compassion.

Looking down on the group then, both literally from a random roof in the Rukon and figuratively in my mind, I realized just how right I had been. They really did act like they were goofing off during a field trip; their behavior so easy-going as they complimented and teased each other over their rough landing. Why were they like that? And why was I letting it bother me so much?

I sighed, hopping off the roof and rejoining the group, as hopeless as they were.

"I don't think any of you appreciate how serious the situation really is!" Yoruichi shrieked just as I touched ground. It was nice that she agreed with me and had the initiative to point it out.

"Listen!" Uryuu said after a bit more bickering. "Doesn't it seem sort of quiet around here?"

Maybe if they hadn't been so loud in the first place we all would have noticed it sooner. But now that he mentioned it, the place was lacking life - or at least non-living souls.

I went to take a closer look around but got unexpectedly caught up in reminiscing. The area looked familiar, although I couldn't place if I had actually been in that exact spot or it was just the fact that it was the Rukon District in general.

"Yeah, is this really the Soul Society?" Ichigo questioned, not as impressed with his surroundings as I was.

"Yes," Yoruichi supplied, "and this particular area we're in is called the Rukon District..."

Most populated area, place where all souls end up upon entering the Soul Society, right on the border of the Seireitei, blah blah blah. She and Urahara should just team up to write a manual so I wouldn't have to suffer through all of their commentaries.

But whatever Yorucihi said gave Ichigo the idea that bolting towards the Seireitei, the ultra-posh district of the Soul Reapers, was a good idea. He really deserved to be skewered if kept being so impulsive. The dunce.

It didn't matter that Yoruichi ordered Ichigo to stop, because the kid just kept running like a lemming until the Hakutou Gate came crashing down on him.

The gate settled into its rightful position, the smoke from its fall just beginning to disperse when a new voice invaded.

"Well, well," a man said. "It's been a long time since anyone's tried to pass through the gates without a travel permit."

How did he know we didn't have a travel permit, I wondered. He, whoever he was, should have asked if we had one before getting testy about us not having one.

Most of the residual dust cleared up and our company was revealed. The guy was as tall and bulky as an elephant, wearing an Abu-esque hat on his head, and had pig-tails made of sideburns growing out from his chin. Not exactly a catch, but they usually didn't choose guards for their good looks.

The gate keeper grinned, leering at the leg-hair sized Ichigo. "I don't get many guests these days, so welcome, Little Man."

He earned a lifetime supply of brownie points for that nickname, though. I took back my bad mood. He was actually okay, in my book.

That's what I thought until he slammed his own gigantic zanpakutou down in challenge, anyway. That set him back as far as hypothetical baked good points go.

My feelings of betrayal were side-tracked when Orihime and Chad, taking Ichigo's example and ignoring Yoruichi's calls of protest, ran forward to help. I made for Yoruichi's side and listened to her seethe, sharing her frustrations but not showing them. Being around this type of group made even me feel mature. Why did teenagers have to have such lethal superiority complexes?

"Those fools," Yoruichi spat. "They need to start trusting me and thinking things through before they act!"

I rolled my eyes, smirking as Jidanbou (as the giant was called, I caught from the conversation going on ahead) declared a one-on-one fight with Ichigo. Uryuu stepped in right about then, too. "No need to tell me. I don't understand what the driving force behind stupidity is."

I could feel Yoruichi's intent eyes zoning in on my profile. "No, you wouldn't comprehend that."

I blinked, abandoning the first other-worldly quarrel to squint at the feline. That could have either been a compliment or an insult, and I highly doubted it was the former. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Yoruichi turned back to the fight, wincing some as a particularly harsh blow from the gatekeeper delivered a sonic whirlwind. "You don't understand because you hold no withstanding bonds with any other person. The idea of sacrificing everything for the sake of another is absolutely unimaginable in your mind."

She said that like it was a bad thing. "So?"

Yoruichi lowered her head, obviously having enough of me. "Never mind. I'm not sure why you came this far as it is, but hopefully you'll get some good out of it if you don't get yourself killed."

Well, that was the ultimate boost of confidence. See if I want to sacrifice everything for the sake of you, Yoruichi.

"Hm, so Jidanbou's axes shattered from one attack," Yoruichi mentioned. I tuned back into Ichigo's battle only to see that it was over, as Jidanbou was slumped back against the very gate he was hired to guard. Which was fine, until he started throwing a hissy fit about it.

"Y-you're," Jidanbou sobbed, lifting his massive, tear-stricken face to look Ichigo in the eye. "...such a good guy! You and me are enemies, but you still worry about a loser like me. So big! What a big-hearted man you are!"

I'd missed something important in the exchange, clearly, but that only made it more fun. What could Ichigo have done to earn him such praise? The possibilities were endless, especially with my imagination.

Jidanbou was so moved by Ichigo's chivalry that he decided to open the gate for us, which was a pretty big win. It happened that a captain must have been passing by when the great event happened, however, and there was no guarantee that Gin Ichimaru was as generous of a character as Jidanbou.

So I didn't wait to find out. I hustled myself through the gate the moment I saw an opening. But I was alone in that move. Granted, Yoruichi was the only one who could match my speed (and she could surpass it by a nose or two) but still, weren't the others the ones with so much devotion to the cause? Where was their determination? Were they really going to stand around and try to talk it out?

Go figure. They _were_ that stupid.


	11. Chapter 11

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Okay, so maybe my idea hadn't been the most brilliant. The strolling into the Seireitei alone thing, I mean. Once I landed myself in the desired destination, I realized that I had _no freaking idea _what I was supposed to be doing or where I was supposed to go from there. We were saving Rukia, sure, but why couldn't we have had a pow-wow before hand to establish a basic plan of action? Preferably in music form, so that it would be easier to remember.

Because, in the end, what else was there to do when skulking through empty (thank Gackt) streets that all looked exactly alike but sing?

And so, I began to rap. Yes, rap. Snoop Doggie-Dog style. Fo sho, yo.

"Whi-kee whi-kee wa! Rukia's here in da Sei-rei-tei, sittin' 'n a cell and wastin' away. We're gonna save her, yeah, bring her home from harm, hopin' that Ichi won't lose an arm!

"Maybe that Uryuu will fall in a ditch, 'cuz he's the world's number one biggest man _beetch_. Chad's so cool, Chad's so fine, it's just too bad he's ba-sic-ally a mime!"

I stopped it there for a second, rethinking my lyrics. That last line was giving too much credit. Chad didn't gesticulate nearly enough to be a mime; he was too stoic and inexpressive overall. It would be pretty great to see him in that Parisian clown sort of get-up, though.

Retake:

"Chad's so cool, Chad's so fine, it's just too bad he isn't mine!

"Orihime's pretty and her heart is pure gold, so it's a real shame her head's full'a stone. No wait, I really gotta give her some props, but _man _I wish those massive boobs would just pop!

"And then there's Yoruichi, she's one super fly cat. I hope I'll find her pancaked on the ground all flat! So that's my song, that's my rhyme, 'cuz I'm the badest rapper that - Whoah there, Nellie!"

"Oh!"

I stumbled backwards, flapping my hands like a turkey trying to fly. When my footing stabled I glanced down at the poor, unfortunate soul I would have to murder now that they had both seen me and ruined my jam.

The boy was still getting over the collision, his eyes shut in a wince. He was pretty puny, but in the adorable kind of way that reminded me of a kid dressed up in his father's work uniform (because of the shihakushou he was wearing and all). He was even holding a toy butterfly on a stick. I had no idea what that could have been about, be he seemed sweet enough to pull it off.

"Ah," he gasped, looking up at me for a split second before bowing. "I'm sorry, please excuse me."

Aw. Not what I was expecting at all from my first enemy encounter. Maybe everyone would be as polite.

"Nice butterfly." I said it before I could help it. My ego must have figured that one of us had to be at least a little antagonistic, for the sake of tradtional good versus evil relations.

The Reaper flushed some, his eyes flickering to the plastic insect. Ever so smoothly, he whipped it behind his back. "Oh, well, it was for the Hell Butterflies. They always seem to run away from me and I can never catch them."

I nodded more for the sake of shutting him up than out of actual understanding. As pinch-able as his pink cheeks were, I figured I shouldn't hang around to chat too much. It might have been pushing my luck to underestimate anyone I came across.

Too bad for me, even skittish Reapers could get over themselves enough to notice a suspicious character. "Say, who are you? And why aren't you in uniform? Those clothes are so strange..."

My face was as blank as a board. "Who are you to ask?"

My bluff went by unnoticed. The Reaper, instead, straightened up, full of both pride and docility. "My name's Rikichi. Pleased to meet you."

You too, you gullible bug-lover, you.

Rikichi squinted, becoming a little too engrossed in my attire (or maybe what was under it?). "But really, if you don't mind me asking, what are those clothes? I've never seen anything like them."

Truth be told, I hadn't thought about what I was wearing. I'd thrown something on when Urahara woke me up at whatever ungodly hour, but my mind hadn't been in the best shape at that point.

I took a peek down and saw that I was adorned in track shorts and a long-sleeved, spandex shirt. (I may not have been athletic, but athletic clothes also happened to be some of the most comfortable to wear when lounging. What irony). I could make it work.

"I just got back from a mission," I said, lying like the pro I was. "In the Human World. "

The boy bobbed his head eagerly, his eyes suddenly bright. "You must be a seated officer if you're allowed to go into the Human World! What squad are you in?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What squad are _you_ in?"

"Me? Oh, I'm in the Sixth Division under Kuchiki-Taichou."

Dork. Way to be the least alert person ever. I almost felt bad.

"Me, too," I told him. Why I had decided to label myself as a member of the Sixth was beyond me. It just seemed like the easiest thing to do at the time.

"Wow, really? I don't think I've ever seen you around before. Did you just transfer in?"

"Yup."

"That's great," said Rikichi. "Are you heading over to the barracks right now? Would you mind if we walked together?"

I thought it over. The idea seemed safe enough in theory; I could just hide out in the squad building until the rest of the Dream Team showed up. It was a piece of cake plan.

"Sure. Lead the way, Rikichi."

* * *

The living quarters of the Soul Reapers weren't anything special; they were archaic like the rest of the world, meaning that everything was super clean and lacking personality. The rooms were pretty empty, hosting only a single sleeping mat, a small table, and a wardrobe, but I guess the life of a warrior was simple and limited to the necessities. It didn't really give me much to work with, but I had to be glad that Rikichi had a private room at all, since his status as an unseated Shinigami wasn't anything to brag about. I had to be glad he didn't make much of a fuss about asking _why_ I had to hide out in his room, too. The kid really was too trusting for his own good.

Rikichi, as a legitimate although low-ranking Reaper, had duties to perform. While he was busy doing those, whatever they were, I found myself in his room with absolutely nothing to do. I took the liberty of making myself at home during the first hour, commandeering his bed and doing some horizontal meditation. My only company was the trusty steel ring I found minimal amusement in twirling around my thumb. I figured that it was almost exactly what I would be doing if I was still back home, only being home would make it less awkward.

Not entirely consciously, I found myself tapping into my inner strategist. While it sounded so easy to keep a low profile, I knew there would be a lot more work to it. It wasn't like I could just skulk around the Seireitei and expect not to be found, so I figured that the most basic yet vital course of action would be to snag myself a shihakushou. There were so many Reapers around that they couldn't possibly know everyone's face, right? The atrocious black get-up would allow anyone to blend into the population.

I started racking my imagination for a plan to snag myself a uniform, and most of the ones I came up with involved various forms of super-secret-sneaky-ninja tactics. But then I realized that I was already in a Soul Reaper's room. Alone. With full access to his wardrobe. Rikichi and I weren't exactly the same size, so I would look completely ridiculous in his personally fitted clothes, but I could make do with it until I could get chummy with someone with more comparable body measurements. (It wasn't like anyone could look _good_ in a shihakushou anyway, unless it was in the process of coming off a well-sculpted man.)

Yeah, stealing from Rikichi could have worked. If Rikichi hadn't chosen that precise moment to walk in, that was.

"What's up?" I voiced casually, a little relieved that I hadn't found the energy to shimmy myself out of his bed yet. At least I really did look like I wasn't up to anything when I was just laying around.

"Oh, hello, um..."

I didn't realize why he had trailed off until it dawned on me that I had never gotten around to telling him who I was. I had a momentary, scarring thought that maybe he made it a habit of stashing girls in his room and didn't bother to put much effort into getting to know any of them anymore. What were the odds of that one?

"Wait," he finally got the guts to voice. "What's your name again?"

It was sort of amazing how someone could put so much control into the hands of a complete stranger they didn't so much as know the name of, but I wasn't complaining as long as it benefited me. "It's Mikita."

There was no need for me to lie. It wasn't like I was Urahara or some big-shot like that whose name would spark a huge ruckus. Sure, there was the chance that that Soi Fon character might feel a twinge of nostalgia over my name, but I somehow doubted that I needed to worry too much. If she hadn't made any impressive impression on me, who's to say I made one on her?

"Oh, right, Mikita. I remember now!"

That's freaky, considering I was pretty positive that I had never told him in the first place.

The boy giggled and rubbed his finger through the onyx tresses on the back of his neck. In the process, his arm jangled against a piece of jewelery that was either tied around a lone, long lock in a FFX Yuna tribute or a dangling earring. I wasn't sure which it was. Anyway, the important thing was that, while my attention was drawn to the perimeter of his face by that hair ornament, I noticed his eyebrows for the first time. Or not them, but rather the black designs that were branching off from them. Where had I seen something like that before?

"Back to my point," Rikichi started up again, capturing my attention before I could fully process where I knew the art from. "I just got heard a rumor that there were some Ryoka who tried to force their way into the Seireitei earlier. Can you believe it?"

What? No freaking way! I cannot, in fact, believe it. Imagine that, someone breaking into the Seireitei? Psh, impossible.

"Outsiders? That's not cool."

"Yeah, I know," Rikichi said, semi-gasping in awe. He zoned out for a second or two before coming back to reality, bringing a new subject with him. "I brought you some new robes, since I figured you wouldn't be able to get your own if you can't get into your room. I wasn't sure about the size, but they should be fine for now. We can't have anyone seeing you in those human rags and thinking you're one of the Ryoka, right?"

No, that would be unfortunate.

"Gee," I said, positively beaming, knowing that he would mistake my sardonicism for something more innocent. "Thanks a ton, Rikichi."

The Reaper grinned boyishly in response, apparently proud of his job well done. He probably didn't hear praises too often. "Here," he said as he handed the mass of black and white fabric over. "I just stopped by to tell you the news and drop these off. I'm going to head back now, so you don't have to worry about me walking in while you change."

Did they have no locks in this world? They really did give each other too much credit.

"See ya."

And with a single wave of the hand Rikichi was gone again, leaving me cross legged on his bed, in his room, utterly unsupervised. Giving the new dreads I would have to put on a critical once-over, I wondered if fate was just trying to psych me out by making things so easy.

Sighing some, I took my time unfolding the set of clothes and laying them out before me. At least putting the fabric puzzle together was something to do.

* * *

Shihakushous were insane. As in, about twenty-three different layers of insane. By twenty-three, I actually mean just three, but all of that excess fabric laying around with no purpose was just as obnoxious as if it had been twenty-three well-fitted layers. I've mentioned it before, but those thing just went against all the laws of fighting attire; it should have been form fitting, easily maneuverable clothing. Not a freaking circus tent with random ties all over. Get it right, guys.

I had the feeling that if someone were to call a match between the hakama and I, the pants would have pinned me in victory hands-down. The kimono layers had been easy enough, besides the few minutes where my arms had become lost in the mass of silk and cotton. (No, really, I swear they disappeared in Narnia for a while until they managed to poke through on the other side at the hand holes). The over-sized style of them made feel like I was wearing a sumo wrestlers' girdle, only I wasn't a sumo wrestler. I didn't think I'd be able to take step without getting distracted by the ruffling of excess fabric. I couldn't even move my arms to finish getting dressed without getting distracted my the ruffling of excess fabric. It was basically the most annoying thing ever.

Eventually, I just got so frustrated with the entire struggle that I took both articles of clothing off and sulked on Rikichi's bed naked. Well, close to naked, in nothing more than a bra and undies. I was wearing those ankle-high tabi sox, too. As ugly and mutant-like as the two-toed look was, at least they were unexpectedly comfy and helped to warm my bare bod up.

It probably should have been more uncomfortable then it was, the whole sitting in some guy's bed in my birthday suit thing. But in all truthfulness, I was barely even fazed; I might as well have been locked in my own bedroom as opposed to an undercover convict in unknown territory. Maybe it was because Rikichi had said himself that I didn't have to worry about him popping in, but that would have been a pretty dumb reason to stay calm. Maybe he had just said that because he _would_ be popping back in and hoped to see a little more of me than he already had.

There was nothing I could really do to mend the situation, so I just had to wait. For something. For anything.

To my utmost thrill, the time I spent twiddling my fingers and humming the Star Spangled Banner wasn't too lengthy at all. The door flew open after about twenty minutes, swinging around and into the wall. I hadn't pinned Rikichi to be one of those _'Grr, I'm so angry I'm could take it out on inanimate objects_!' kind of guys, but I guess when anyone got angry enough they could surprise you.

I perked up, but a poisonous arrow shot me straight through the heart when I saw that the testosterone-driven form that stomped into the room wasn't Rikichi. It was, instead, a taller, burlier, way _hotter _man with flaming red hair pulled back into a mass of spikes. There was a white bandana knotted on his head where a pair of sunglasses would have normally been. I knew what would have normally been there because I knew who my guest was. He was, of course, that dear turkey vice-captain from way back when in the Human World. The one that came with his captain to capture Rukia and had nearly killed Ichigo, Uryuu and me. Wonderful.

(No, I mean it, it was wonderful. I was already ninety percent naked and on a mattress; all he needed to do was catch up and join me. He had grown even more attractive than I remembered him to be. He was quite welcome to strip and straddle at his earliest convenience. It was a shame I didn't remember his name, since I wouldn't be able to scream it.)

"Oi, Rukuchi! Where the hell's my lieutenants badge? Don't tell me ya swiped it again to role play or somethin'..."

It was then that the lieutenant took the time to look around the room and notice that the person in question wasn't present. There was only me, curled up cross-legged and severely under dressed on the futon. I couldn't even laugh when his eyes bulged out like a goldfish; I was actually nauseous over having been found out, especially in the position that I was in. I hadn't even made the connection between the Sixth Division and the two people who would, without a doubt, pose a problem if they were to run into me. Was I really such a failure at life? Way to hide right in the fox's den, Mikita. Rikichi had even said something about being under Captain Kuchiki, hadn't he? That was just sad.

Then again, once my mind went into shut up and think mode, I was almost sure that the lieutenant hadn't gotten around to noticing the familiarity of my face. He seemed a smidge preoccupied with a few certain areas below that level that _wouldn't_ have been so familiar. I knew I was blushing and more humiliated than I had been in a very long time, but it was probably a blessing in disguise to be getting that sort of attention. It gave me time to stall, so I hurried to come up with something to do or say that could both cut the tension and get his ass out of there before I ruined the entire rescue mission by getting caught right off the bat. As stubborn as I was, I didn't like pain, and I would be singing like a bird if they so much as brandished a rubber band at me.

"You know," I began, wincing at the tightness of my throat and its effect on my voice, "his name's Rikichi, not Rukuchi. You should really know a guys name before you come bulldozing into his room like that." My tone strengthened with additional sass. I didn't really feel it, though. "Plus, as a lieutenant, it should be your duty to know and respect your squad members and all. And, uh, _not_ go bulldozing into their rooms in the first place."

Real eloquent, Mikita. At least it worked well enough, since the lieutenant's entire upper half flooded with the color of a rhubarb. He had the decency to turn away in a single swift motion, his shoulders going hunched, face pointing towards the floor and an arm thrust over his eyes just for good measure. It actually made me feel better, what with how bashful _he_ was over the entire thing. Hadn't a guy his age ever seen a woman without her ankles covered before? It really was an old-fashioned society of Shinigami.

"Wh-what the hell are you doin'?" he basically shrieked.

I somehow found it in me to raise a brow at his turned back. "What does it look like? I'm clearly trying to enjoy my day off."

The red-head's body twitched very visibly. I'm sure that under his uniform, the sight of multiple muscles flexing would have been a great thing to see. "You sit around like this on your free days? In Rukuchi's room?"

"First of all," I patronized, not all together sure where the output of confidence was coming from, "I told you, his name's _Rikichi_. And second of all, this is _my_ room."

It was a fib, obviously, but it was less trouble to say that than come up with another reason for the multi-gender slumber party.

"I know his name!" Renji assured me a little too viciously. It would have been more convincing if the back of his neck hadn't turned an even brighter pink. "I just said it wrong 'cuz I was upset!"

Yeah, because I call Ichigo "Ichogi" when I'm pissed all the time. At least I wasn't the only liar in the room.

The lieutenant took in and released a huge breath. I knew it was a dangerous sign; if he calmed down, he'd be more professional, and more thoughtful. If Rikichi had known about the Ryoka hanging around than a vice-captain would already know their height and weight. This guy would have enough sense to find a girl hiding out in his division to be out of the ordinary in a aberrant way.

"Anyway," my guest continued. "What d'ya mean this ain't Rikichi's room? I _know _this is Rikichi's room."

"We switched," I burped. "He's in my old room now. There was too much of a draft. I didn't like it."

"And did Kuchiki-Taichou give his consent to this arrangement?"

Captain's kiss ass. "Do you think I would be here if he didn't? Of course it was approved."

"And where are your assigned quarters?"

Up the hall, turn right, walk for three miles, and it's the last door on your left. That's what I almost said until my eyes fell on an insignia hanging off Rikichi's window sill. Perfect. Commence abortion.

"You said you were looking for your badge, right?" I asked. "I think it's over there by the window. Rikichi must have left it before he moved out."

Renji turned back around at my words, his dark eyes flickering across the walls until he spotted his badge. He took one step towards it before, out of either habit or instinct, he turned to face me and nod in appreciation. He only just managed to do that before being reminded of why he hadn't been searching for the badge himself - my nudity. The fully-grown man promptly swerved to the right and faced the wall once more, squirming and shuffling along sideways until he was close enough to pluck up his arm band. His presence only lasted for another three seconds after that. Like fast-forwarding through a movie, the red-head zoomed to the exit, hopped into the hall and only spared a quick sound of thanks before pulling the door back into place with more force than was natural or necessary.

I could only blink, as obtuse as could be.

And so, that was my second encounter with the beastly Abarai Renji. The second of many, I hoped.

* * *

It was the next day when, after finally managing to cover myself in that Shinigami garb, I gathered up enough stuffing to venture outside of the one-roomed home that wasn't mine and explore a little. I had been right when I predicted that no one would notice that I was foreign; I barely got a second glance from the Shinigami going about their business as I strolled aimlessly around the territory. (Other than the looks I got from the select few occasions when I tossed a wink at a particularly handsome hunk of man, but those didn't really count). The Seireitei was an even larger place than I had initially given it credit for; it had taken a few hours for me to map out the Sixth Division alone, and by the time I looped around I had forgotten where half of the paths led. It was while I began debating how stupid it would be to step outside of the Sixth's walls when a blaring alarm went off.

"_Emergency! Emergency! Intruders in the Court of Pure Souls! All squads to you defensive positions! Repeat: Emergency Alert! Emergency Alert_!"

It sounded like there was an emergency. So Ichigo and the other goons had made their way in at long last, huh? About time.

So then, what was _I _going to do? I couldn't very well just keep going along all nonchalant on my own when everyone was assuming rehearsed battle stations. It's not like I could wing it and join in either, seeing as I had no clue where to go or what the "defensive position" entailed. Asking about instructions would be like Waldo break dancing in Times Square.

Therefore, there was only one thing I could do:

Run away and hide.

(And maybe try to find the rest of the Ryoka, or even Rukia, if I felt up to it.)

* * *

I may have been somewhat of an expert in detecting and identifying reiatsu (okay, okay: I was a _super_ expert in detecting and identifying reiatsu), but even if I hadn't been, Ichigo was every bit of the attention whore that I had feared he would be. Only a few hours had passed since the lot made it into the Seireitei, and already I could feel that Ichigo was locked in his second battle. I didn't understand why his opponent's spiritual pressure felt so familiar, but I blamed it on a misinterpretation due to being a little rusty in the field.

The waves of energy were pretty faint, so I reasoned that where ever those two were slapping each other around, it wasn't anywhere close to me. I was both relieved and a little anxious, since I couldn't decide whether I should keep to my own business or be there for Ichigo in the case that he needed the back-up. Then again, I didn't particularly want to be back-up for a beast like Ichigo. I was supposed to take on someone he couldn't?

Maybe it was just the hype of the high-alerts, but I found myself sticking to the shadows as I wandered admittedly aimlessly through the streets. Despite being dressed as a Reaper, I still felt like a person who hadn't showered in three years and decided out of the blue to walk into a spa. Maybe there was safety in numbers? I didn't have to sniff out Ichigo, but I could sniff out one of the others.

Nodding along to that plan of action, I jumped up to a vantage point, looking for some kind of sign. I was thinking that I felt kind of like Catwoman in doing so, so it came as a nice coincidence when I _landed _on a cat. Three guesses who.

Yorucihi let out a wail unlike any I had ever heard. I probably would have found it funny if she hadn't also reacted by digging her claws into my leg.

I let out a holler of my own, not even having the power to think about my status as a fugitive keeping a low profile. The pain was more important.

"What the hell, Yoruichi!" I shrieked, kicking the feline off with my free foot and scrambling out of her reach.

Yoruichi growled, and I saw that her tail was bent in a lighting-blot shape from my body weight. I almost felt bad, but then my ankle started throbbing again. "What are you yelling about? You nearly snapped my beautiful tail off!"

"It's not like I knew you were up here and decided to Geromino," I grumbled, testing my injured leg. It still hurt, and would probably start gushing blood at any second. I was confident that I would live, however, if I stood strong.

Yoruichi sighed, her fur, which had been standing on end, laying flat on her spine. "Fine. It was an accident."

That was great and all, but it didn't change the fact that, yup, my leg was bleeding. I kind of needed that, probably more than she needed a straight tail. Harry Potter was popular, wasn't he?

Before the conflict could continue, a massive explosion went off in the north. Yoruichi and I both dropped our hostilities, stalking the smoke ball until it began to disperse, an eon later.

"That was Ichigo, wasn't it?" I asked. It seemed like a tense moment, so my voice was low.

"Yes, I believe so."

"...Who won?"

Apparently, Yoruichi's golden eyes weren't as all-knowing as they looked. "I don't know."

I didn't know what to do after that. It was a little crazy to think about. There was a chance that I had just felt Ichigo die. As much as I ragged on the kid, I felt my heart gain twenty pounds as the possibility sunk further down my torso. I decided that I didn't like the feeling. Emotions could get dangerous quick; wasn't that why Ichigo was in trouble in the first place? Why everyone ever ended up in trouble?

"Let's go, Mikita," Yoruichi's voice cut into my wonderings. "There's nothing we can do but keep moving forward. Rukia Kuchiki is being held in that tall white tower in the distance, the Repentance Cell. We came here to rescue her and we can't let ourselves be distracted from that goal."

I blinked. As lame of a thought at it was, what other option did we have? At that point, giving up would only land us in a cell right beside Rukia. We were in too far to pull out. The precum was already out of the penis, and sperm couldn't turn back.

I didn't complain. I didn't even talk. I just followed Yoruichi as she leaped onto an adjacent building, her broken cork-screw of a tail held high and giving me an unpleasant view of her raisin.

On one hand, I now knew where to find Rukia. On the other, there were hundreds of thousands of Soul Reapers standing between her and us meddling kids and our cat. A battle of epic proportions, for sure.

I just wished someone had bothered to wish us good luck. I could have been home using excess Cheetos cheese to finger paint. Instead, I was realizing that I had just as much of a reason to fear death as anyone else.


	12. Chapter 12

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Melodrama was annoying. I didn't like it, but most of the time it couldn't be avoided. One of those times was when Ichigo decided to play dead for a while only to turn around and clash swords with an even more advanced opponent; the dwerp took on a captain about seven seconds after he had me fearing for his bodily fluid count. Yoruichi identified Ichigo's opponent as the captain of the Eleventh, which made the guy pretty hard core, too. Ichigo deserved to die if he was going to take on a beast like that, especially after he had gotten hurt enough to make me worry some trace amount about his safety in the first place.

Regardless of my feelings, the Negro Garfield and I were heading to Ichigo's newest battle ground for some reason I didn't know and couldn't be bothered to ask. Yoruichi clearly had motives, but I was forever a pawn of the fate and Urahara union (which more than likely dictated Yoruichi's motives). I just followed along and tried to keep up.

It wasn't the easiest thing in the world to keep up with a cat on a mission, however. Yoruichi hadn't been shy about voicing how much I was apparently slowing her down - not that I _was_ slow. Yoruichi was just a bitch like that. Only not a bitch, because she was a cat and not a dog. If I knew what female cats were called, I would turn it into a derogatory word, for sure. Then again, maybe that's what they were getting at when they started using the word pussy.

It was in the middle of Yoruichi's lecture about paying attention (I, ironically, wasn't paying attention, which was the same act that had cause me to stumble off the roof and trigger the rigmarole) that a massive amount of reiatsu impaled me like an ocean wave. The power of it brought both Yoruichi and I to a halt, and nearly sent me to my knees.

"Let's go," Yoruichi commanded in the next moment, her tone an insistent growl. She took off, heading for the horizon and leaving me in the dust; my legs weren't quite ready to work. Whoever that Kenpachi guy was, Ichigo was royally screwed.

Luckily, I managed to recover before Yoruichi got too far. I felt like a show horse, galloping around and leaping over obstacles I was lead through. But weren't we all just show horses when it came down to it? There was always someone else tugging at the reigns, whether or not you chose to obey them.

(Life can be related to just about any inanimate object if you try hard enough, just as any inanimate object can be related to some kind of sexual act. Glass bottles, really?)

My occasional docility did come in handy, though. I didn't have to be able to be close enough to see what was going on when the conflict came to a close; both Ichigo and his opponent's spiritual pressure plummeted to a dangerous, barely detectable level, making the winner irrelevant. Yoruichi and I doubled our efforts of arrive fashionably late.

Some minutes later, we came upon a mass of monuments that had been shredded. I meant that literally: skyscraper type structures were cut up like cake and reduced to rubble. Had anyone been in those buildings at the time? Shouldn't a captain have been less reckless, Eleventh or not?

Yoruichi weaved her way through the rubble, hopping over hunks of debris that were too tricky to be avoided and heading towards the epicenter of the lot. I stayed behind for another second, hunching over with my hands on my knees, huffing and puffing like I had just run a mile. Or ten. Which I probably had.

Once I was able to take in air without sounding like vacuum cleaner I straightened up and moved forward. Tripping over mounds of rock eventually paid off when I reached Ground Zero, as identified by the giant dip in the earth. I slipped down the slanted walls with care, coming to a rest on one side of Ichigo's fallen body. (Apparently the captain Ichigo had been fighting had dissolved into the ground. Neat trick). I watched as blood quite literally oozed out of Ichigo's wounds while Yoruichi chatted away like he was coherent enough to comprehend.

"…fought well, and you endured a great deal. I am impressed. So don't worry, I won't let you - Mikita! What do you think you're doing? Don't kick him!"

"I was checking to see if he was alive or not. Jeez."

"Of course he's alive, you idiot! Why else would I be speaking to him? _I told you not to kick him_!"

"I'm not kicking him. I'm prodding him. It's pretty cool. Every time I press down the blood squirts out like toothpaste. Try it."

But Yoruichi chose not to indulge herself. Instead, she took the opportunity become engulfed by a bright, searing blue orb until her fur had retreated and her human skeleton had taken its place. She then, in her nude glory, bent down and hoisted Ichigo over her shoulder.

I shifted awkwardly. "You want to borrow some clothes or something?"

The newly-human Yoruichi barely spared me a glance. "No, thank you," she muttered, busying herself with some kind of gadget. It appeared to be a fossilized bird on a stick. But where had it come from? Cats didn't have pockets. "They won't be of much use. I only need to stay in this form until I can get Ichigo to safety."

I nodded even though I didn't exactly agree. Yoruichi had been a cat for way too long if she didn't realize how important it was to cover up intimate parts. It didn't matter that it was only a temporary arrangement; the fact of it was Yoruichi would be man-handling Ichigo and sleuthing around the Soul Society in her birthday suit. What wasn't pedophilic about that?

That funky little device Yoruichi had been fiddling with, once injected with some reitasu, grew into some sort of freaky looking, boney pterodactyl wing. With all of the weird things I had seen in my life, it was one of the weirdest.

"We have to leave quickly, before anyone sees us," Yoruichi went on to explain. There were more than a few reasons why she should have worried about being arrested. "Grab onto me."

The cadence of the humanoid Shihouin was far preferable to the male husk she took on as an animal, but it didn't make any difference at all when she still said gross stuff like that.

"What?" I sputtered. Where exactly did she want me to grab on _to_?

Yoruichi sent me a hard stare, clearly not amused. "What's the matter with you? Why do you look so uncomfortable? All I did was ask you to grab onto me so we can leave. Now hurry up."

It seemed to finally dawn on her what was wrong with me when my scandalized facial expression remained intact.

"Oh, I see," Yoruchi hummed. "You don't want to come near me because I'm not wearing any clothes. I thought you were attracted to men, Mikita."

"I am!" I squawked. "That's _why_ I don't want to be all over you when you're bearing your all to the world."

The older woman only sighed. "It's perfectly normal for teenagers to explore their sex appeal with each other. You must have bonded with other girls before, right? Don't you teach other with touches and sensual talk, or at least lift up your shirts and practice posing provocatively. Come on, it's really not a big deal. We have to get a move on."

My forehead was being eaten alive by a tick mark. "No," I forced out through a clenched jaw. "I've never done anything like that before in my life, actually. I'm not some Facebook whore."

Yoruichi dismissed my argument with a flick of her long ponytail. "In any case, just stop being so insecure and hold onto me so we can get out of here. There are bound to be other Soul Reapers that felt the battle and are on their way as we speak."

Her point was proven when a steadily approaching spiritual pressure made itself known.

"Mikita," Yoruichi said. I assumed she meant it as a warning to get my ass moving and wrap my legs around her so we could all fly off into the sunset, but I just couldn't bring myself to go along with it.

"No way," I stated, crossed my arms. "Not doing it."

Yoruichi's eyes, still disconcertingly feline-like, were narrowed in my direction. At first I thought she was pissed that I wasn't a mindless lackey who followed her every order without question, but there was something else behind that look.

"Good luck then, Mikita."

It didn't take me too long to figure out what she meant, but it was still long enough. I didn't even get the chance to argue before Yoruichi took off like a rocket. A plum-headed, pure evil, nude rocket with a strawberry flavored green bean on her back.

I was left standing there like a Blue-footed Booby, watching Yoruichi fly away while some unknown enemy drew closer and closer. Did Yoruichi really expect me to fight someone? I'd known it had been a possibility, but only if all else failed. The treachery! Why hadn't Ichigo woken up and saved me? Asshole.

"Well, well, well. What d'we have here?"

Dead girl walking, that's what.

My intestines exploded. Not actually, but almost. I was nervous. More than nervous. It was scary. How long had it been since I'd been in a real, honest-to-God, fight-to-the-death match? Try _never. _

I knew how to fight. I was decent at defending myself when it came down to it. But the only time I had ever been attacked was by Urahara in training, and that situation wasn't quite as austere as reality. Then and there, it was only me and that Shinigami. There was no buddy system, like that night back when Rukia was taken. There was no sense of underdog-ism, where these guys didn't expect a damn thing from me. They were expecting something like Ichigo's skill from me. They were expecting me to be somewhere around a captain's level, only more crazy with my powers.

"I'm going to die," I decided aloud, not bothering to keep my voice down as I sulked over the inexorable loss of my life. The Reaper that was going to kill me chuckled, obviously overhearing, not that I cared. I did, however, care enough to look up and face the soul that would send me off to the afterlife.

Oh shit.

Why did he look familiar? I only knew about three Reapers, so where did I know this one from? This silver-headed, fox-face one?

The silver-headed, fox-faced captain. Captain.

Oh. Shit.

I should have just dropped to my knees and begged that he spare my poor, potential sex enslaved life. It must have only been because my body was getting a head start on the rigor mortis stage that I remained grounded, every one of my muscles tight. Did that give off the impression that I was gearing up and willing to duke it out? I hoped not. It was so the opposite.

"One a' them lil' Ryoka, huh?" the guy grinned. He seemed like a psychopath, to be honest. "Ya must be the kitt'n that slipped in the gate, hm?"

Had he just called me a kitten? And he had known I snuck into the Seireitei before the others? That must have been where I knew him from. He was the guy from the gate. Why hadn't he stopped me then, then? He knew I weasled myself past him, so why hadn't he stopped me? Why hadn't there been a massive search going on for me three minutes after I had made it in?

My opponent grew more and more chilling by the second, grining so wide that his eyes disappeared into an arch. "I came here ter find Zaraki and the or'nge kid, but I suppose thin's turned out fine this way. I'm Gin Ichimaru, captain a' the Third. What's yer name, lil' kitt'n?"

I really wished I was stronger, or at least more delusional. I really hated him calling me kitten. Plus his accent was annoying. I wanted to slap him straight, or at least cuss him out. I had become uncharacteristically mute, unfortunately.

But he was being nice for the moment, right? Maybe if I was nice back we would be bros. Bros before hoes, isn't that what they said?

I bowed degradingly low. "My name's Mikita Kame. It's nice to meet you."

It might have been going a overboard (with the formality, I mean) but I fought my hardest to sound sincere. Ichimaru must have bought it, since that animalistic smile climbing even higher on his cheeks. (Or maybe he smiled more just because he knew I was lying through my teeth?). The man was so busy calling me a cat that he didn't realize the resemblance was all on him.

"Why, how nice a' ya ter say!" Ichimaru exclaimed. "Such a polite lil' kitt'n. It's a shame I have ta kill ya."

I would have commented on how lame the line was if it hadn't been directed at me in the middle of a very not lame experience.

If I had stayed with the others back then at the gates I might have had some kind of idea what I was in for. What was his zanpakutou like? He had to be powerful to be a captain, but sometimes the type of ability made all the difference in winning or losing. Things were so much easier when I knew what was going on back on Earth. I missed the Human World and its simplicities.

Ichimaru tilted his head, his lips still in an upward tilt. "Well, ain'cha gonna take out yer weapon? Don't tell me ya don't got one."

I did have one. Just not at my very immediate disposal. Or was it? I wasn't even sure at that point. I'd been more than a lifetime since I'd seen, used, or spoken to it at all.

"Oh, this ain't very good fer ya," Ichimaru commented. "I feel bad attacking a lil' kitt'n with no claws."

Good. That was good! Ichimaru obviously had enough of a chivalric streak in him not to maul a girl who couldn't defend herself. I could be a damsel (or kitten, I guess) if it meant I could keep breathing. Ichimaru could just arrest me. I'd go for that.

"But if ya made it this far," Ichimaru said, continuing his thought, "I won't be takin' any chances. Ya must be more trouble than ya look, so I'll have ta make sure ya won't be causin' any more nuisance."

Damn it.

And, just to assure me that he meant business, Gin grasped the hilt at his hip. He was completely casual in sliding the wakizashi out of its scabbard and sending me a smile. How could he grin like that when he was about to kill a girl? (And how could he grin like that period?)

"Wait!" I found myself demanding when Gin opened his mouth, presumably to call on his shikai. The boomerang shape on his face flattened a bit. "Can't you at least wait until I get my zanpakutou to wake up? Please?"

Ichimaru's lips curled up again. "A' course! So if ya got a zanpakutou ya must be a shinigami, hm? Interestin'."

I nodded mindlessly, yanking the steel ring off of my thumb and rubbing it between my hands a little less than gently. It was a curious course of action at that time, and even I wasn't sure why I was doing it. I guess I was thinking of waking a genie up from its lamp. Why wouldn't a dormant zanpakutou work the same way?

"C'mon," I muttered, switching tactics and shaking the trinket in my fist like a jar of stubborn ketchup. "Get going already, Taimozou."

Nothing happened, of course. The stupid thing was always so unreliable when I actually needed it.

I guess Ichimaru must have noticed that my life was pitiable and sympathized, because he sighed a little and put a hand on his hip. "What're ya doin'?"

I gnawed at my lower lip. "Like a genie in a bottle, gotta rub him the right way…"

My wit was wasted, but I didn't really care enough to take note.

Ichimaru looked like he was about to say something else when a popping sound, like stepping on bubble wrap, interrupted. Then I wasn't holding a piece of jewelry anymore, but a sword.

Well, maybe it wasn't the sword that most people would think of (the kind that was capable of chopping up veggies for a delicious salad with the greatest of ease), but a fencing sword. More specifically an épée style fencing sword; one of those thin, cylindrical rods that ended with, not a point, but a flattened tip.

So you see, even when my zanpakutou finally did reveal itself in true form it wasn't exactly something that would strike terror in the heart of evil. But it really wouldn't fit my life if my zanpakutou was awesome, would it? If that thing had been born from my soul or whatever, it had to be somewhat gimpy. The only slightly cool aspect about Taimozou's outward appearance was the tendrils of steel that wound around the shaft, encaging my hand. At least my fingers were in little danger of getting chopped off, if that counted for anything.

"Taimozou!" I crowed, genuinely excited about seeing the benign blade. "How've you been, fella?"

It took a minute for him to respond, and I was almost afraid his "awakening" had just been a dud. Could his spirit still be sleeping?

_**"…Idiot,"**_ he grumbled from the depths of my mind. He was always so horrible to me, that one._**"Leaving me curled up for half a century and only calling when you get yourself into trouble? Inconsiderate, moronic girl."**_

_'Aw, but you love me, Tai,'_ I thought rather than said. _'You're a part of me. Born from my soul and everything.'_

He snorted. _**"The useful part of you with a grasp on reality."**_

"Yup." I clicked my tongue smugly, forgetting not to speak out loud. "And that's why we're a great team! Beauty and Brains."

I had completely forgotten that Ichimaru was on standby until he broke up my reunion with my zanpakutou.

"Well, now that that's taken care a'…" the captain said. I barely had the time to look at him before he finished his thought. "Ikorose, Shinsou."

And then that pretty little knife in his hands illuminated a searing white and shot towards me like a politicial Pinocchio's nose.

Out of instinct I prepared for impact, bringing Taimozou up to my chest and lowering my center of gravity. Shinsou came a split second later, colliding with Taimozou and bending the feeble pole towards me about forty-five degrees; I had to lean back in order to avoid getting my neck sliced. I hurried to move out of Shinsou's range, or at least to what I hoped was out of Shinsou's range. My gut twisted as I glanced askance at Taimozou's blade, hoping he hadn't been cracked in half under the force. Luckily, the useless wand was still intact, if only for another moment.

"C'mon, Tai," I ground out, watching Shinsou retreat to its master. No doubt it would be coming back, though. "Do something! You know you're just a piece of junk in your sealed form."

Taimozou scoffed. It was good to know that he could be calm in a time of crisis. _**'I really shouldn't bother helping you at all after the way you've treated me. Making me rest as a girly trinket, honestly... But things wouldn't be any better for me if you were to die here, would they?' **_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry! Just hurry up and do something."

_**'Hm, that didn't sound meaningful at all.'**_

My teeth ground together, my eyes trained on Shinsou. "Taimozou."

There was a disembodied sigh. '_**Fine, fine. Why don't you try actually releasing me, idiot? Activate our shikai.'**_

Why hadn't I thought of that?

Time passed in slow motion as Shinsou took off again, aiming for my gut. I didn't have the time to think; I could only act.

My lips parted. "Suika, Taimozou."

'_Challenge this stranger's identity, Taimozou_.'

And then it was over. There was a flash of blinding green light that blocked out all sound and sight. It only took a moment for the world to return to its rightful place - everything besides Ichimaru, that is. His eyes were taped open, dilated to their max, and they stayed that way even when he fell forward, dead before he even reached the ground.

…No, just kidding. But that would have been one truly _wicked_ ability. (Get it? Wicked?)

What really happened was that Taimozou's blade disappeared all together. His state of nonexistence lasted for a fraction of a second.

"Strike to kill, Shinsou!"

It wasn't Ichimaru who delivered the command, because Ichimaru had already delivered the command some seconds ago. His Shinsou was already surging towards me, if you recall. It was me who told Shinsou to strike to kill. Or my version of Shinsou, anyway; Taimozou's version of Shinsou.

So even though Taimozou seemed like a handicap of a sword on the surface, he had the ability to steal fragments of another Soul Slayer's spirit energy after making physical contact. Once he did that, he could apply that energy to his own form and become a doppelganger of our opponent's zanpakutou. Together, we were a pretty nifty pair.

Ichimaru seemed to agree with my point, since his smile almost disappeared. He brought the real Shinsou back to his side, and I followed his example by calling for my own copy.

"Interest'n," Ichimaru said. "So yer zanpakutou can mimic yer opponents' in battle, huh? An' I guess that form ya had it in before was 'cuz of its ability."

"Right." I nodded, feeling considerably more in control. Maybe it didn't matter so much that Taimozou and I hadn't spoken to each other or much less _trained_ together in fifty-so years; fighting was like riding a bike. I had never really been the best combater, but I felt fine in that moment. Besides, it seemed like Team Ryoka was blessed. It didn't matter that we were all amateurs running into the heart of trained assassin headquarters; we were working towards a greater cause with good intentions, so whatever higher power was out there wouldn't let us die. If everyone else could cheat death, why couldn't I?

I took in a deep breath, twirling Taimozou-Shinsou in my fingers. "Taimozou can turn into pretty much any object I want hm to when he's sealed because his power revolves around imitation. Inanimate objects are tricky, but everything has a trace of life in it."

Ichimaru hummed, that vulpine grin of his slithering back up to his ears. I furrowed my brows at the sight, a little unnerved. Could he open his eyes for once?

"But ya know," the captain said, "that copy-cat method ain't the most effective way a' fightin'. It's pretty hard ter win if yer just battling against yerself."

A timid smirk of my own popped up. "Exactly. Which is why…" I straightened my elbow, lifting Taimozou-Shinsou back into the air. "Howl, Zabimaru!"

And howl he did. I hadn't realized at the time what a smart move it had been to grab Zabimaru back in the Human World, but it paid off in the end. Zabimaru's form was considerably heavier than Shinsou's had been, though, so I struggled not to let the fact that its weight was about to break my arm in half show in my expression. When Ichimaru snickered, I figured I wasn't doing a very god job.

"Oh, now that's somethin'," he remarked. I had no idea why he was so ho-hum about the entire ordeal, but it brought my confidence down just the slightest. "I suppose that sword a' yers stores the spirit'al energy a' every zanpakutou it touches. Tricky, tricky."

I knew we couldn't keep chatting forever, especially if it could work in Ichimaru's favor. I would be better off trying to catch the guy off guard while he was distracted. I though back to how Renji had thrown Zabimaru's blade like a fishing pole and tried to reenact that motion as best as I could.

It worked somewhat. The sections of Zabimaru's blade unhooked and shot out as they were supposed to, but Renji was much stronger than I was; he could hold his ground and handle that pressure. I couldn't.

I yelped when the momentum of the swing sent me sailing forward. It was sort of like a water skier trying to control the boat. It wasn't going to happen.

Taimozou-Zanimaru flew forward in the attack while I skidded in his wake, gripping his hilt for dear life. My heels dug into the ground on impulse, but the only things that made a difference was Ichimaru deflecting the assault without so much as a flinch. Taimozou-Zabimaru courses was redirected, and I was obligated to let go of his hilt to avoid whiplash. That move landed my right into the hands of the enemy.

Literally.

One of Ichimaru's lanky arms secured around my torso, keeping my elbows pinned. The other held the real Shinsou to my neck. I could feel Ichimaru's breathy chuckles in my ear, tickling the baby hairs that grew on my neck.

"That was disappoin'," Ichimaru teased. He didn't need to tell me twice. "I didn't expect ya to be taken down so fast."

Did he think I had _tried_ to make a fool of myself? I had achieved shikai, but only just barely. I hadn't had a choice but to try to face Ichimaru, and that was the only reason why I'd done it. I'd been desperate and too scared to not be at least a little bit cocky, as usual. A horrible defense mechanism, that was. I was ignorant and humiliated. I didn't know what I'd been thinking in going along with the mission at all. Why would I have thought I would be alright? Why would anyone who actually knew me - Urahara or Yoruichi - have thought I would be alright? I couldn't handle reality, which was why I chose not acknowledge it. I was as pathetic as they came, and I was going to die because of it.

But alas, like in every great Greek Tragedy I had to realize my tragic flaw at the very end before kicking the bucket. As if dying itself wasn't bad enough, I had to hit rock bottom before doing it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pinch of Shinsou puncturing my jugular and the gargling fit it would send me into as I burned and choked on my own blood. I sort of hoped it was possible for me to become a ghost. If there was a positive to dying, it would be the ability to haunt the living. I would haunt Kelly Ripa if I could. Could she really be a man-eating alien?

I waited for a while. A while went by, and everything was still. I figured something was up so I peaked an eye open to find out what was causing the hold up. I was tentative to move too much, by I could see enough from the corner of my eye to tell that Ichimaru had his head tilted to the side, his expression looking concentrated.

And then, all of a sudden, I was free.

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until my throat open up again and my lungs started begging. I probably should have ran for my life at that point and not looked back, but I was too confused to move. Had that really just happened?

"I have ter leave ya here, lil' kitt'n," Ichimaru said with a sad sigh. His face wasn't exactly directed towards me, and I followed what would have been his line of sight to a little black butterfly that was fleeing the scene. "It's yer lucky day, I've just been summoned fer a very 'mportant meetin'."

And killing with me would have delayed him. I couldn't have been so rude as to ask him to stay for my sake. I wouldn't have wanted to ruin my good mannered reputation.

"Bye-bye," Ichimaru said, sending me a cheerful wave and a particularly chilling smile before flash-stepping to wherever it was that was more important than me. I was left standing alone in some unknown terrain for the second time, a survivor by insane circumstance.

Had Ichimaru really been serious, though? He seemed like the kind of guy who would make a joke out of sparing someone only to pop up behind them and skewer them. I had to keep my guard up and wait for it.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

I waited for a pretty generous amount of time before decided that it really _wasn't_ a joke. I then gave myself permission to fall to my knees and weep. I did feel like I could have cried if only I was a little less overwhelmed. It was too much emotion for me to process at once, so I could only shut down and slowly sort through it all.

But I couldn't waste time doing all of the intrapersonal communication I needed to right then and there or I wouldn't have left for a trillion years. Instead I pulled myself to my feet as soon as I was physically able to. It was a struggle to stay upright with the way my bones were shaking but I managed it with some patience and practice. As much as I sucked and failed at general life, I was alive to do it another day. There wasn't much better than that for me.

I eventually trudged to the spot where Taimozou-Zabimaru had landed, picked up the zanpakutou and brought him back to his sealed épée form.

'_**You're ridiculous**_,' Taimozou grumbled while I half-heartedly tried to remember how I had gotten him to be sealed in the shape of a ring. '_**I don't know why I bother serving you when you don't care at all about anything that happens, at least not enough to work towards changing things for the better. Do you think you will ever amount to anything when you can't even be bothered to-**_'

"Blah, blah, blah."

Whatever Taimozou was saying was probably important in one way or another, but I was too tired to care. I took the lazy way out and stuffed him through the obi at my waist. Another plus to his lack of edges was that there was no need for a scabbard, since if he couldn't cut an enemy he couldn't cut me either. The only thing that was left to do after that was find Yoruichi and decide what to tell her.

Which was that Ichimaru had lost, of course.

Because if you thought about it by the rules of combat, I had technically won. Ichimaru had walked away, so it was failure by default. If Yoruichi asked, I had beat that sucker until he was forced to retreat. A little exaggeration never hurt anyone, after all. It was the spice of life.

It was only a matter of tracking down the kitty and continuing my journey. Maybe I had had a bit of an epiphany that day, and maybe not. Either way, the story goes on.


	13. Chapter 13

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

"…So I released Taimozou, right, and the guy freaked out. He started asking all these questions about Tai's abilities and how he worked and all that; eventually I had no other choice but to attack first and get things moving. I mean, we're on a mission, you know, so there's no time to stand around and chat. It was a little rough in the beginning since I haven't trained in a while, but I managed to get a few good hits on him. He actually ended up just taking off in the middle of it without word. I guess he just didn't want to face the fact that he would lose to a Ryoka. Right, Yoruichi?"

There was no response. Yoruichi, rather than leeching onto my heroic tale, only had eyes for Ichigo, who was recovered and training for bankai in the arena below us.

"Right, Yoruichi?" I prompted, not willing to give up. "Aren't some people so low?"

"…"

"You don't even care, do you?" I resigned. "I just fought a captain of the Gotei 13 and made it out without a scratch and you can't even give me some drool? Just because Ichigo's so needy doesn't mean you can go around-"

"Shut up, Kame!" Ichigo hollered from across the Grand Canyon. "I'm trying to train here and all of your yappin' is distracting!"

Prick. Ichigo could have been training in the time it took him to bitch about my bitching. I didn't care about his bankai. I was trying to tell a story. It was his and Yoruichi's loss if they didn't care about the thrilling pseudo details I had put not-so-much effort into fabricating.

Besides, where did Yoruichi get off even suggesting bankai in the first place? Was anyone capable of mastering a zanpakutou's final release in three days? Not even Ichigo was that cool. If anyone was that cool, my fight with Ichimaru had gone exactly as I had explained it.

(It was totally cheating if Ichigo did manage it, though, since he was nothing but another dimension of dummy for another of Urahara's experiments.)

I stalked away after another few minutes, heading for the handy, other-side-of-the-battle-ground hot springs instead. My departure went unnoticed by all of my company. Like I needed them anyway.

* * *

I was right, the bath was so much greater than ogling Ichigo. Peeping on him while he did shirtless crunches hadn't been anything to complain about, but the bath was still better on my aching joints.

Of course, my spa experience was ruined by some wise guy who decided to crash the party with a very literal bang. I could never get a break.

I pulled myself out of the water and redressed as fast as I could (there was a delay when I tried to get into those Shinigami rags again, but halfway through I realized that they were no longer necessary and I could just throw on my own outfit). I trotted over to the main event once that was done, waving my hand before my face in a vain attempt to clear away some of the residual, airborne dirt from our guest's forced entrance. Whoever it was, they knew how to make a statement. I hoped I hadn't missed too much of the excitement.

By some strange twist of fate, the trespasser was still shrouded in his own cloud of smoke and had yet to make a full appearance. His voice was his only identifiable characteristic.

"-secretly training for bankai, huh? Looks like fun to me."

Those were the first words I caught, and by the end of the sentence the dust had settled enough to reveal a broad silhouette with pineapple shaped hair. It was either Renji or a transgender salsa dancer. Whichever it was, they were both welcomed to have all the fun they wanted.

"Let me train along with you," the vice-captain, as it turned out to be, said. A smirk was high on his lips, and his eyes were fixated on Ichigo. Did everyone have to be so obsessed with Ichigo, even the sexy guys with the sexy eyes?

The boy-wonder himself looked pretty bewildered at the turn of events. Renji chuckled at the reaction, adjusting Zabimaru on his shoulder.

"You seem to have that 'what are you doing here' look," Renji jeered. "Hell, I guess I can't blame ya for wonderin'. But the fact is I'm not here for any special reason."

At that point I began to block out Renji's words all together, as they were somewhat confusing and a little too reminiscent of playing-hard-to-get flirting. I just watched as he swaggered closer instead, appreciating the view. My selective hearing did pick up on something, though.

"They've announced that it's going to be at noon," Renji relayed. "Noon tomorrow."

A shock waved rippled across the company and it was that more than the words themselves that snapped me out of it. What was at noon tomorrow? I had missed the first half of his thought. Was he talking about our wedding? Thanks for the heads-up, babe.

"And though I hate to admit it," my would-be fiancé went on, turning his back to us. I trailed my eyes southwards of his spine, only half listening. "…the fact is that at my current level I'm not quite good enough to save Rukia."

Rukia. Of course. What was that girl's secret? Why did everyone either want her dead or want to die protecting her? I wasn't even bitter, I just _wanted to know_.

After a bit more chatting, Renji asked-slash-informed us that he would be joining our warrior mole brigade while he worked on his own bankai. And so with that, our hobnob extended to include a former enemy. Renji, though, was adamant about establishing a his side of the room, our side of the room rule; he stuck to his side of the room, we stuck to our side of the room.

For about three minutes, at least. Rules were meant to be broken, especially when it kept me and a fine gentleman on opposite sides of the room.

* * *

It was a real skill to know when someone else thought that you were a pain in the ass. It was an even more coveted skill to not care when someone else thought that you were a pain in the ass. It was easy for me to not care that Renji thought I was a pain in the ass when he was nude from the waist up. In contrast, it was then even easier to see why he would think a girl he hadn't even been formally introduced to was a pain in the ass when she ogled at his nude from the waist up self the way that I was.

"Hey, you."

Renji, the speaker, had to be talking to me. I was the only one within sight.

"Yeah?" I called back, my voice echoing across the area. I wasn't a total creep; I had perched myself atop one of the scatter plateaus, so it wasn't like I was drooling right at Renji's side or anything. Realistically, he might not have noticed that I was checking him out at all. I was too far away for him to pick up on the fact that I was more interested in his abdominals than his sword.

(The sharp, killer sword. Not the sword that all men were naturally equipped with, if you know what I mean. It wasn't as if _that_ was hanging out anyway, or if I would even look at it if it were. Because I definitely wouldn't. I wasn't that sick.)

With as far away as we were, I could only just barely make out that Renji was narrowing his eyes at me, most likely trying to get a clearer view. "Who are you?"

I was a little insulted, a little belatedly. It was our third meeting, and, while I had recognized him at first sight both times since that initial meeting, he hadn't bothered to store my face in memory?

I kept those inward thoughts to myself and chose to play it cool. "Can't you guess? We've met before, you know."

Two times, actually. Not that I was counting.

The vice-captain fell out of his battle stance, tilting his head to the side.

"You're one of those kids from that night in the Human World," Renji said in recollection. I was ashamed about how many butterflies fluttered around in my tummy at such a simple thing. "You're the other one who was taken down by Kuchiki-Taichou. I remember now."

"Yup, that's me," I piped, pulling myself up from my cross-legged stalking position and dusting off my shorts. I wasn't sure why I did it, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. Since we had gotten to talking casually, it was the right time to go down there and make it more personal. If I just-so-happened to trip, land in Renji's chest, and end up in a make-out session, it would simply be a coincidence.

The true coincidence was that, despite jokingly considering the aforementioned plot line, it happened for real, minus the whole knight-in-shining-shihakushou thing. I tumbled to my death while trying to land, and Renji just let me slam into the ground, staring down at me like I was rolling around in glitter and trying to call myself a vampire. Making a mockery of yourself seemed to hurt twice as much when it happened in front of a hot slice of man, didn't it?

All of the air had been forced out of my lungs upon impact, so my body's first reaction was to try to refill them. I ended up inhaling a mouth full of dirt, sending me into a painful coughing fit. That, at least, lead me to convulsing into a seated position. The sand felt like it was slicing open my insides, and the lack of respiratory stability sent me into a mini panic attack.

Once I calmed down enough I clambered to my feet with a brave face. (A brave face that was covered in dirt, bright red, and tearing up, but a brave face all the same.) You were only as weak as you let yourself believe you were, right? I just had to think like a T-Rex. There was nothing less boss than a T-Rex.

Or maybe there was?

"Is this a joke?" Renji said through a sneer, looking me up and down. I only wished it was in appeal rather than disgust. "You brats are really startin' to piss me off with the way you're skippin' around like this is all just a game. Do ya really think that you can save Rukia when ya can't even land on your own two feet?"

I raised a brow, trying not to let his insults get to me. The physical trauma hurt enough. "Who said I wanted to save Rukia?"

Renji faltered. "What d'ya mean?" he questioned, aghast. "Isn't that the reason you're here? Why else would ya go through all a' this if it wasn't for Rukia?"

"I dunno." I shrugged. "Bored."

Unfortunately, my honesty only made things worse as far as Renji was concerned. It was a smudge insensitive, I came to realize, to not care about his lover's life.

"What d'ya mean ya _don't know_?" Renji growled at me, taking a threatening step forward. I didn't mind that the distance between us was shortening, even if he meant it to be imposing at that moment. "Why would ya come all the way to the Soul Society just because you were _bored_?"

Renji was clearly not one of those people who could accept someone's differences and move on. People like him liked to pretend to be tough when in actuality they cared too much about other people's business. Renji was just like Ichigo, and that was such a turn-off.

"Look," I reasoned, wanting to go back to being strangers all of a sudden, "I'm only here because it was something to do. I guess I wanted to have a little adventure this summer, but other than that I had no real intentions of fighting or risking my neck or saving any lives. I just sort of go with that flow, you know?"

I looked like he didn't know at all. The only thing he looked like he knew was that-

"You're crazy," Renji said, apparently unable to think of anything more eloquent to say. He blinked once, then shook his head as if to clear out any befuddling thoughts.

It wasn't like I disagreed - about me being insane, I mean. The only thing I offered in defense was a shift of the shoulders and an apathetic expression.

"Hey, not everyone can be like you and Ichigo," I said. "The two of you are identical in your own brand of insanity, but it's not like that makes you two better than me or anything."

Renji and Ichigo really were two peas in a pod: same general personality, similar values, good looks and strange hair, butt kicking abilities, matching taste in women, et cetera, et cetera.

"I am nothing _like_ that jerk!"

Renji rejecting the idea in that particular way was in itself very reminiscent of Ichigo. But I didn't tell him that. I just snorted and rolled my eyes, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway..."

Renji's eyes darted up then, hooking onto mine. I ignored the Tasmanian devil having a seizure in my gut and kept my face as cryptic as possible. Somehow, talking seemed like a good way to relieve the internal tension.

"You and I are nothing alike because of the intensity you and Ichigo actually _do_ share," I told Renji. "You types are filled with all this passion, but I haven't got an ounce of it in me. When I joined this little rescue brigade I knew I would be the only one who wouldn't get so overwhelmed by my emotions that I'd jump into something without thinking. People could call it a flaw, but I say it comes in handy. There's really no way I would feel the need to risk my life for anything, so I'm more likely to keep my life."

On some level, I did realize that I wasn't exactly selling myself in a good light. But still, when did false pretenses ever make a good impression? Maybe that speech was too much information for a first meeting, but Renji would have figured it out on his own anyway. It's not like I tried to hide it, and it's not like it took a genius to notice.

I wanted to maintain a cool pose, with my eyes closed and head turned, but when Renji didn't respond I had to drop it. The look on his face wasn't anything special, and it was admittedly disappointing that he didn't feel strongly about my confession one way or another.

I started to feel self-conscious after that, like I had just made the biggest fool out of myself in twelve different ways within a span of twelve seconds. I wouldn't normally care what people though of me, but my ego was somehow more precarious in that particular situation.

"Forget it," I told Renji with my best stage diction, pulling the breath from my the pit of my bowels so that my tone would be stronger. "I never said anything. We just met. Nice to meet you."

Again, Renji didn't give me much to work with in return. He kept staring for a few more beats before letting out a tiny scoff.

"Sure," he said without an hint of regality. I was, once again, less than impressed. What a prick.

"Most people call me Mikita," I elaborated.

Renji kept staring. I got the impression that he was still trying to size me up. I guess I must have passed his test (albeit narrowly, I was sure) because he actually gave me the pleasure of an introduction.

"Name's Renji. Now leave me alone. I need to get back to training."

I didn't mind acquiescing to his request. It was the natural order of things. People like him worked hard by themselves and accomplished what others thought was impossible, and people like me just stood idly by in the neutral toned backgrounds and watched it all happen. As much of an interest as I had in Renji initially, everything had been put into perspective. My attraction to him was officially skin deep only, and surely one sided.

Like I said, that was the natural order of things.

* * *

"Hey, you. Mikita, wake up! Look at this."

There was really no reason for Renji to yell; Zabimaru's bankai was a hard thing to miss. The saw-like sword had basically sextupled in size, for one thing. There was the part about the sword becoming an animated, skeletal snake monster, for another. Despite his lack of actual organs, Zabimaru also seemed to be giving me a sort of stink eye as he hissed. Overall, I'd have to give the bankai a rating of _pretty freaking awesome_.

It was also pretty freaking awesome that Renji was treating me like we were chummy. I was surprised that he had remembered my name at all, let alone used it and beamed while doing so. I may not have been the reason for his pant-wetting-worthy enthusiasm, but it was still nice to be at the receiving end of it.

(Part of me debated whether or not I should risk throwing my arms around Renji in an oh-so-innocent celebratory embrace. In the end, I remained stationary for safety.)

"I did it," Renji breathed, totally elated with his feat. He turned to face me when he was done googly-eying his massive serpent, his grin just as big. The beady brown eyes in his skull were suddenly bright. "I've reached bankai! Isn't this great?"

I cracked a smile. "Fanny-pack-tastic."

Renji smirked (although not at my reference, undoubtedly), moving his line of sight to some point yonder and addressing that direction instead. "Now I've got a chance at goin' after Rukia."

Well, that knocked my spiffy mood down a notch. I really needed to make a mental note to ask that girl what sort of kidou spell she used to snag hunkasauruses.

Renji continued to bask in his own glory for a while longer but his elation simmered with each second that passed. He turned towards me again once he reached a certain level of homeostasis, his smile gone and eyes back to their darkened state.

"Shouldn't you be training, too?" he questioned me. "Why are ya just standin' around?"

I raised a brow. "Okay, I know you've been blinded by your determination and all, but haven't we already been over this? Have you not seen enough of me to know that I'm not the type to get down and dirty-"

"I got that," Renji said, cutting me off with a scowl, "but don't ya think ya might want to train to maintain whatever skills you have? You don't want to die, do ya?"

I knew then that Renji, at least, would appreciate my tall tale of battling Ichimaru.

"Well, I guess I could use a bit of polishing," I falsely agreed. "After my last fight with that Ichimaru guy, I might want to make sure everything's still in top condition."

And oh, the reaction was just what I'd been waiting for.

"I-Ichimaru-Taichou?" Renji awed, his eyes practically popping out of his head. "You faced off with Ichimaru-Taichou?"

I nodded morosely. "I held him off while Yoruichi brought Ichigo here to heal. Actually, you ended up being a big help to me, in a way, since my zanpakutou-"

"Zanpakutou? You have a zanpakutou?"

I flinched, but kept going. "Yes, I have a zanpakutou. And when it's released it- "

"So you're a Shinigami?" Renji cut in. Again. "Or are you just a dud like Kurasaki?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're comparing me to that piece of fruit? Please, I'm the_ real deal_."

Renji's expression clearly displayed his skepticism. "I don't get it, then. Why were you in the Human World if you're-"

"Hold it," I snapped, feeling the conversation spiraling out of my control. "Save all questions for the end of the ride. I've been waiting forever to tell this story to someone who will appreciate it, so just shut up and appreciate it, you got that?"

Renji blinked, his face slack. I took that as a go ahead.

"As I was saying," I went on, buying some time with a sigh as I gathered my plot line, "my released zanpakutou..."

* * *

My narration reached its conclusion with a flourish, every critical detail fabricated to its fullest. I took in a deep inhale at the end, letting a crucial moment of suspense pass before raising a pointed brow towards my company.

"So, what do you think?"

Renji face didn't give away any of his feelings, remaining just as empty and unenthusiastic as it had when I had started (and even before then). He was probably in shock.

"I was wrong," he said once he found his tongue. My chest swelled. "You're even _worse_ than Kurosaki."

"What are you talking about?" I quipped back, fighting off the major deflation going on in my insides. "You should be bowing at my feet!"

Renji merely snorted, crossing his arms and pivoting his neck away form me. "Yeah, right. I don't believe it. That story was way too sketchy."

"What was sketchy about it?"

"Everything," Renji reasoned. "Do ya really expect me to buy that Ichimaru-Taichou offered to hand over his position as captain if you spared his life?"

"..."

Okay, I might have let my imagination get a little ahead of me out of excitment. At least I hadn't added in the part where all of the Seireitei would switch to a Playboy based dress code.

But I was still a T-Rex, as untouchable as a T-Rex. "Why wouldn't you believe that?"

Renji only shook his head while straightening out his shoulders. "I have other stuff to do. I would say it was nice talking to you, but it was more of a pointless distraction."

Rude.

I wasn't willing to stop him and make him reconsider. Renji could go off and save Rukia for all I cared. They could even get married start making babies right in front of me and I wouldn't care. Damned people didn't know talent, whether authentic or imaginary, when they saw it.

So I only stood there and watched him stalk away like one of those cinema bad asses. Only unlike those cinema bad asses, his pants were way too free to let me admire his lower asset.

I waited until he was gone, back on the surface of the Soul Society, before I made my own move.

"See ya, Yoruichi," I called to the cat-woman, preparing for a flurry of flash-steps. "Going out. Not coming back. Reach bankai or die trying, Itchy-bum."

And with those parting words I was off on my own in the wilderness. Although, even if you asked me why, I wouldn't have been able to tell you.

* * *

Tracking Renji down was easier than I would have anticipated if it had been planned; he had apparently gone on a bit of a disabling spree and knocked out anyone who got in his way. I just had to follow the bodies.

Not all bodies were lacking consciousness, however. Rikichi was the last man standing on one battle field, oddly enough. He was shaking like a scolded house elf but he was awake. I doubted it was due to physical prowess that prevented Renji from taking him down.

Almost before I could think about what I was doing I had pounced from the rooftop I was traveling on and touched down by Rikichi's side.

Rikichi looked up once I landed, his eyes quivering just as much as his body and filled with some sort of fear. My tiny heart twisted.

"Mikita!" The pint-sized Reaper gasped, making a sudden motion to clear his eyes of any trace of tears. It didn't exactly help, since it just showed that he actually had been about to cry. "What are you doing here? Where did you come from?"

My guilty conscious got a smidgen heavier. I did just sort of ditch the kid back when he had been housing me. Why hadn't I stopped to consider writing a note?

"Oh," I uttered, my voice strangled. "Sorry about that. See, about that second question, there's something you should know…"

Was I really about to blow my cover?

Eh, it was already blown by that point. It wasn't like Rikichi was dangerous anyway. It was just payback, telling him the truth.

"I'm not a member of Squad Six," I divulged, "or even a legitimate Shinigami at all. I'm one of the Ryoka."

The boy gave a flinch at my words, but his reaction was somewhat of a let down.

"I know," Rikichi croaked. "I figured it out after you had left and I actually sat down to think about how strange it all was..." He snorted then, shaking his head. "I was so stupid to have just taken you in and trusted you when the signs were so obvious."

Rikichi kept up the theatrics before a new wave of determination hit him. He looked up at me, a flicker of fire in his eyes.

"But that doesn't matter now," he alleged. "I don't think you or your friends are the bad guys anymore. If Abarai-Fukutaichou was willing to break out of prison and go against the Soul Society to join your mission, then that means your side must be the right side. My loyalties lie with my superior officers, so if you have Abarai-Fukutaichou, then you have me, too!"

I blinked. If his loyalties were with his superior officers then why would he side with Renji alone over _all of the remaining_ superior officers that were trying to swat us?

Rather than question Rikichi's judgment I just nodded and stared off in the direction where I sensed Renji. "He's going to do something stupid, you know. That's why I followed him."

It was part of why I followed him, at least. If Renji and Ichigo were as analogous as I imagined then the flame-head was definitely about to jump into something that could get him killed. The part I couldn't comprehend, though, was why the hell I cared. I blamed Ichigo and his obnoxious compassion towards people he barely knew. His reiatsu wasn't the only thing that rubbed off on the souls around him, apparently.

"I suppose he is," Rikichi said. He lowered his gaze to the blood-splattered ground. "Abarai-Fukutaichou is the kind of person that doesn't concern himself with his own safety when there's a greater cause."

Yup. That was Ichigo, too.

"But Mikita." Rikichi was looking more alive by the second as he rambled on. "We have to help him. He won't be thinking straight when he's this emotionally invested in whatever it is that he's doing. He's going to try to take on too great of an opponent; he's already attacked his own squad! Just imagine what he might do next."

Hey, if they guy could attack his own squad, why not sleep with the enemy? I could imagine him doing that next. I could imagine him doing that next all night long.

Rikichi didn't wait for an answer. Almost as soon as he suggested trailing after Renji we were doing it, Rikichi having the gall to grab my wrist and drag me behind him. I was only minutely offended; I was more concerned with the realization that Rikichi was only about half a head shorted than me. Had I shrunk or just assumed he was smaller?

"We have to find to Hanatarou," Rikichi told me as we ran like the wind. "He's a friend of mine from the Fourth Division who was arrested for joining the Ryoka. I know we can trust him."

Just as the words clicked with me, they clicked with Rikichi. His hurry was slowed to a gradual stop, and he let his hand fall from mine.

"Mikita," Rikichi breathed, staring off into the distance, "Hanatarou is in jail for working with some of your friends. If we want his help, we'll have to break him out. That's against the law."

He was a real scholar, that one.

Rikichi, with his tattooed brows furrowed, turned to me with urgency. "Mikita, are you afraid of breaking the law?"

Wow.

"Rikichi," I began, my expression and voice both about as emotive as a field of rocks, "I broke into the Seiretei to steal a girl on death-row. I lied to you for two days for food and lodging, stole your clothes, lied some more, almost got killed by a captain, and am wanted by just about every one of the hundreds of thousands of ghost warriors in this place."

Rikichi cocked his head in question.

"No, Rikichi. I'm not afraid of breaking the law."

The Sixth Divisioner blinked once before chuckling sheepishly. "Right. Of course. I should have known."

"Let's go," I said, saving Rikichi from his embarrassment and moving. "Just tell me where to go and I'll help you with this prison break. I am a convict, after all."

It would have been a lot cooler if I was an escaped convict, but I couldn't have it all. That Hanatarou guy had better be something special to claim the title from me. If he was such a big deal to Rikichi, who idolized Renji to an Annie Wilkes level, than I was expecting another Renji.

Hanatarou had to be at least half the babe that Renji was, right?


	14. Chapter 14

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Once Rikichi's playmate had been busted from the slammer and the two were reunited it was easy to see why they were friends. Hanatarou was a delicate little thing who was even less impressive than Rikichi in both built and aura. Oddly enough, Hanatarou had the same pale skin, navy locks, and bright blue eyes as Uryuu; the only difference between the two was in size, eyesight, and the former's likeable meekness. As disappointed as I was that Hanatarou turned out to be about three millionths of the babe that Renji was, I at least had to be thankful that he was three million times more tolerable than his look-alike.

Being that Hanatarou was flimsy, I was surprised that he was able to haul so much ass while we hunted down Renji. I would have guessed I'd be saved from humiliation when Hanatarou was around, but I was still struggling to trail a mile behind my escorts. How did those Shinigami do it? Why hadn't they adopted taxis or horse and buggies yet? The constant manual labor had to be annoying. The really needed minions.

Despite the hard times on the way there, we did end up making it Renji's battle ground. The routine of chasing after macho divas had become like looking at a baby by that point; after that first time, you knew what to expect, and it wasn't that exciting anymore. I was honestly more concerned about the fact that I hadn't packed deodorant.

"There he is!" Hanatarou announced as we (or rather he and Rikichi) came up to the fallen fukutaichou. Hanatarou was already healing Renji's wounds White Lighter style by the time I caught up. Rikichi and I were left on stand by.

As wrong as it might have been of me, I found myself tempted to wander off towards something more interesting as the revitalizing process dragged on. I found myself wondering what the population of the Soul Society was, exactly. You had to figure at least the same as the Human World, what with all of the dying folk going there after dying. But what about everyone who had _ever_ died? Were they _all_ in the Soul Society? Was there really room for everyone? Did the universe just keep expending to accommodate for all of the spirits piling up? And what happened when you died in you soul life? Was there another Soul Society for the souls of souls?

I let my theories on universal expansion rest unanswered when Renji came-to.

"How can I still be alive?" The tough guy spoke like a guy who shouldn't have been alive, as was appropriate.

"Oh, hello there," Hanatarou greeted his patient, his work not disturbed in the least. Quite the multi-tasker, if I do say so myself.

Renji wasn't so impressed. "What're ya doing carin' for me?"

What was he doing questioning it?

Rikichi stepped in. "I brought him here."

"Rikichi?" Renji acknowledged, rolling his head towards the less influential member of his division. "I don't understand."

"They threw Hanatarou in jail for trying to help Rukia," the sixth squad no-name explained, "so I thought that since you both have the same goal he'd be willing to help you."

Hanatarou took over from there. "Rikichi and his friend waited until no one was around and then unlocked my cell."

Well, that was the gist of it, anyways. It was a disappointingly simple operation in terms of stealth and skill, but I would have liked if it had only taken as long as its explanation. There had been a whole lot of waiting until no one was around that Hanatarou'd neglected to mention.

"Thank you for helping me," Renji said, groggy but sincere.

"Actually, I didn't do much," Hanatarou protested gently. "I don't know who did it, but your wounds had already been very well treated and bound by someone else when I got here. There's only one who could have done it."

I found the flaw in his statement right away; how did he go from not knowing who did it to admitting their could have only been one person who'd done it? Strange boy, trying to be sly.

"But don't worry about that now," Hanatarou said, strangely assertive given what I had assumed about his personality. "You just get stronger, Lieutenant. You can count on Ichigo to save Rukia. I just know he can do it."

I was beginning to think the mission was more of a religious one, where Ichigo-ism was being spread like wildfire throughout the Seireitei. You'd think the kid was the next coming of Christ by the way people either worshiped or revered him.

"Yes, Lieutenant, get well!" Rikichi encouraged enthusiastically just a moment before his shoulders slumped. "I was shocked that you actually lost to the Ryoka, and then to make matters worse we learned that you had broken out of jail and disappeared…"

So Renji was a wanted man himself? Bad-ass.

Rikichi went on. "...And I couldn't believe you would raise your sword against members of your own squad! But then I remembered…" The heartbroken bitterness that shrouded Rikichi's mood was whisked away when he gave a thumbs-up. "The only reason I joined Squad Six in the first place is because you are my hero! So no matter what happens I want you to live, Lieutenant, and keep on battling. I want you to be the Lieutenant I know who's always cool and always fighting for what he believes in!"

Who was that kid, Naruto?

I sighed some, letting my chin dip into my chest. I was pretty sure my presence was forgotten, if not unnoticed all together. That was fine when I wanted to be left out of things, but maybe I could throw in some confetti of my own?

"Yeah." The word was juvenile at best, so I followed it up with a, "Get your ass up and heal." Did that even make sense? "Or stay your ass down and heal."

Renji craned his neck to see me properly. I knew I was beautiful and everything, but seeing him putting in all of that effort just to lay eyes on me was still flattering.

"You," he muttered throatily. "You're here, too?"

I almost said no.

"There was nothing good on TV," I justified instead. Who knew what was on TV, really. I had lost the concept of Human World time since entering the Soul Society.

Renji obviously didn't get it but chose not to comment, as was becoming typical in our conversations. Instead, in a blatant move to spite my words of wisdom, he pulled himself into a seated position, cringing as he did so and forcing Hanatarou to shift backwards.

"Lieutenant!" the healer exclaimed. "You shouldn't be moving- "

"I told you to stay your ass down, you idiot!"

If Renji wasn't going to appreciate my concern than I wouldn't bother to show it. Kicking an already wounded man into submission may have gone against normal procedure, but it worked just fine for me in that moment.

I realized it wasn't exactly the smartest move when the guy started hacking up a lung, though. Judging by the way his face suddenly turned as red as his hair and the blood vessels in his eyes practically exploded, I demised that I had caused more harm than intended. My bad.

"I wouldn't of had to do that if you'd just listen in the first place," I reprimanded offhandedly. Guilt was nibbling at my undersides, so put on a little smile and tried to look nice. "Just do what we tell you and stay still, okay?"

It probably would have been okay if I hadn't of rocketed backwards a second later. I didn't go far, two meters at most, but the wind had been knocked out of me, and my gut felt like it was boarding a baby vampire. I was breathless and stunned_._

"You just…" I wheezed out. I was honestly having trouble grasping the situation. "You kicked me…"

No matter how much of a stud Renji was, that man's ass was _grass_. What kind of guy hit a girl?

The life was knocked back into me with just as much force as it had left me. "What if I was pregnant, you jerk? You just killed my unborn fetus!"

The lieutenant - as well as the two tinier men flanking him - choked on his breath. I ignored them and rubbed my tummy, coaxing the pain away.

"You're pregnant?" Renji all but squealed. That time, I almost said yes.

"No, but I could have been," I said, my anger dispersing as my body stopped hurting. I eased my way back towards the group. "You're lucky that you're so weak. That hit was nothing worse than a grade schooler could have done, so I'm not so pissed that I'd hold a grudge. You don't want to be on the receiving end of one of my grudges, let me tell you."

Rather than thank me for sparing his life and bow at my feet in apology, Renji's frowned. "You once told me you didn't have any passion," he said plainly, his tone a bit strained as he began to erect himself onto his elbows, "but I don't think that's really your problem." I could only watch in mild curiosity as the tough guy maneuvered his arms into the shredded Shihakushou top, bearing his teeth as he redressed. If the moment hadn't been so climatic I would have told him no one minded him being nude to begin with.

"I think I've got you figured out now," Renji continued with a gasp, taking a moment to regain his strength once he was fully clothed.

I shifted my stance. "So soon? You think you know me so well after, like, a few hours?"

Cocky bastard.

"Chsk." Renji snorted first, then leered as he pulled himself up to an alarmingly unsteady stand and stared down at me. "You're nothing but a brat who's always testing her limits. People just let you act the way you do so they don't have to deal with you. You probably don't ever hear the word 'no' or let anyone see behind that hard-ass front, but you're still always pushing because you _want_ someone to challenge you. You don't enjoy life because you're not living for anything. You've got no purpose. Ya gotta let other people in and live partially for those people. That's when things actually start to mean something and become worth the effort of protecting, because you know parts of your soul are with those other people."

To be honest, I had absolutely _nothing_ to say to that.

But it didn't stop me from commenting anyway.

"You sound like a fortune cookie, and those things are never right," I said through a huff, crossing my arms and looking away. "If you ask me, you should stop trying to dissect other people and focus more on yourself."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask ya, did I?"

I had had enough of the angst. I hated serious discussions and how they made the air all clammy. I would usually blurt out some random fun fact to break the ice but I wasn't in the mood at that moment. I suffered in silence instead.

Renji let out a long sigh, apparently giving up on me. He stretched his arms out before embarking on the struggle of tying his hair back. He managed it after a decent amount of grunting and even completed the look with a knotted bandana headband. Back in full costume, the lieutenant stared off in the distance.

"Well, this is it," Renji settled, turning to the two small-scale males. "Thank you for helpin' me, but it's time I get goin' and save Rukia. I can't just let Ichigo claim all the credit, right? I'm headin' out now."

And, true to his word, Renji was off. He took one step, stumbled, and delaying the rest of his journey in order to regain his footing. Lame.

"Hold it there, Grace, I'm coming too." I grumbled, not caring about whether or not Renji would approve. The moron couldn't even walk and he wanted to go run off alone? I addressed Rikichi and Hanatarou with a simple, "See you around, guys."

"Mikita, wait," Rikichi called just before I made my move. "You'll take care of him, won't you? Please make sure Renji doesn't get himself seriously injured again."

I sort of had no choice but to smile-smirk at that. I was supposed to protect a vice-captain? Rikichi had too much faith in me. "Sure, Rikichi. I'll take care of your hero for you."

Then I was off to save the day. But I wasn't sure if I was happy about it.

* * *

Renji was easy to catch up to, even for me. I chose not to comment, though, figuring he already knew how epically he was failing. I let a few awkward moments pass between us, the only sounds my light footfalls and his laborious panting, before my voice felt neglected.

"You were wrong, you know," I insisted lethargically. It was actually disturbing how blasé my voice was. "Not completely off track, but not hitting the nail on the head either. If you've really got so much reading prowess you want to show off, you should try picking up the book first."

I didn't look over to see Renji's reaction, but I could practically feel his wry sneer. "What, like, 'don't judge a book by its cover' or somethin'?" He took my silence as confirmation. "However you wanna say it, I look forward to breaking you down, then." I glanced to my left, caught off guard. Renji smirked towards the horizon. "After we save Rukia, of course."

Of course - Rukia comes first. Rukia always comes first.

* * *

"I don't think you should be doing that when you're not fully recovered."

Once we had gotten close to the Soukyoku (the weapon of unparalleled power that would execute Rukia, according to Renji) a herd of ugly ninja had popped up to defend the prosecution grounds. Renji, being the brute that he was, wasted no time in lurching forward to take the group of them on single-handedly. If I'd been alone I would have just explained my mission to them and fluttered my eyelashes a little, but men lacked such rationale.

"What else'm I supposed t'do?" Renji tossed over his shoulder. "Why don't ya help if you're so concerned?"

He had a point. Hadn't I followed him because he was already hurt? Fighting when already hurt wasn't the sort of move that earned gold stars in my world.

Somehow it was Ichigo who popped in and saved me from making a decision. "It's about time, Renji."

I squinted around the area in search of the bugger. Before I could find Ichigo, though, the beaten fukutaichou beside me fell to his knees, wheezing like an overweight house cat who'd chased a mouse for the first time.

"Renji!"

Both Renji and my attentions were captured by the second call. The red-head's hearing must have been better than mine, and his face craned upwards without hesitation, leaving me to follow his lead. Atop the huge goal-post-looking thing that I assumed was the Soukyoku was a tiny dab of orange against the blue sky background. I suspected that Rukia was the ball of white the orange thing held in one of his arms.

"Rukia!" Renji's eyes were glittering. It made me queasy.

"Oh, Renji, it's you," Rukia gushed from above. "I'm so glad you're still alive!"

The urge to hurl grew stronger, but I had enough self-control to hold it in. I just phased it all out. Ichigo prattled on a little more, he and Renji bickered about something or other, and then the ball of white that was Rukia was tossed shot-put style towards us on the ground, the woman wailing like a infant ejecting the womb.

I came to my sense quickly enough to wonder what in the hell was wrong with people.

Rather than attempt to catch the girl-turned-ammunition, Renji just let out a screamed of his own and let her slam into his chest. The two were thrown back by the force, sliding through the mud a decent distance due to the momentum. I followed their trail with my eyes, not sure whether I should have been blown away that Ichigo had both a good arm and aim.

"Damn you, Ichigo!" I was mildly impressed that the scathing yell came from Rukia.

"You idiot! What if I didn't catch her?"

Renji hadn't technically _caught_ Rukia at all, but he made up for that minor detail once she actually was safe in his grasp; the guy looked close to smothering her while she was in his lap, his arms wound around her middle and nearly taking over her tiny body. I came very close to losing the will to control my stomach at the sight.

"Renji, take her and go," Ichigo shouted from his post. "Don't just stand there, take her to safety. Get her far away from here! That's your duty, protect her with your life." Ichigo was all business, but I guess someone had to be.

"Mikita." The carrot-top addressed me next, catching me off guard. I assumed he, like most people tended to do, hadn't even noticed my presence since I hadn't started babbling. "Do you think you can go with them and try to hold off any attacks?"

I bit my lip, scratched my neck and shot a look back at the beaus. Renji was glaring at Ichigo with some emotion that I didn't care to anatomize, but Rukia's big, dark eyes were locked on me, wide and more uncensored than I had ever seen them. Why couldn't she have been a bitch so that I wouldn't feel obligated to do anything in her favor?

"Sure," I agreed with diction, turning back to Ichigo. "I think I can handle that much."

* * *

While journeying though the different terrains of the Seireitei, I tried to keep my distance from the love birds. I wasn't sure what they were whispering into each other's ears and I didn't feel the need find out. Being a third wheel sucked massively.

The only problem in keeping my distance and looking for distractions was that I was keeping my distance and looking for distractions. I focused more on the landscape than my charges, so I really wasn't surprised when I ended up lost and alone some twenty minutes in with no Renji or Rukia in sight.

If my success on the Rescue Rukia Mission was being judged, I had most certainly bombed.

"Come on," I hissed under my breath, revolving in a circle in my spot. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Not knowing what I was supposed to do, I decided to wait until I came up with a plan. My pre-plan plan was simply wandering the streets and pondering the possibilities. The roads were empty and annoyingly clean, which interrupted my brainstorming. What happened to everyone? Shouldn't there be some kind of frenzy with all of the drama going on? The Seiretei really was a ghost town.

I turned a corner only to be run over by a small car of some sort. It didn't cross my mind that vehicles didn't exist in the Soul Society because I was positive that I had been hit by one.

"WHAAAAAAAAH!"

It wasn't the sound of a car horn, but it was close to it. Did I know that ear popping screech?

"Orihime?" I forced my eyes open, squinting at the black mass lying beside me. The rags, which had been moaning in pain, quieted at my voice. Not a second later an auburn head up, and the girl it belong to blinked at me in her customary obtuse fashion.

"Kame-Chan!" The girl cried, pulling me into a forceful hug that I was pretty sure cracked a few ribs. "Kame-Chan, we were so worried about you! After you disappeared at the Western Gate, we didn't know if we'd ever see you again. Why did go off on your own? You could have been hurt!"

I patted the girl's back a few times, hoping she wouldn't get too hysterical. I chose not to answer her last question, since my witty response wouldn't have been worth it when Orihime only had the best intentions.

"Man, you are two lucky guys," some guy, who was apparently unlucky, said. "Not only do you hang with Orihime, but there's _another_ cutie around?"

I wrestled my way out of Orihime's zealous embrace and tried to regain my barings. My head was still pounding from the force of impact but I managed to pull myself to my feet, dust myself off, and look around at my company. One person stood out right away.

"Chad!" I chirped, oddly happy to see the second familiar face. "And Uryuu, and… Whoever the hell you guys are…"

Frankly, the two faces I hadn't yet seen were two faces I wouldn't cry over if I never saw again. The male duo standing beside Chad and Uryuu were a couple of the least attractive people I had ever seen. One was as bulky as a gorilla with twice as much hair, and the other, if possible, resembled a primate even more. I did my best not to let their ugliness get to me.

"Yo," I greeted with a plastic smile. "I'm Mikita, a friend of these guys and Ichigo."

"Oh," the bigger of the two said. I settled my sights onto him, trying not to stare at his abnormally bushy eyebrows and strange attire. "Well, I'm Ganju Shiba. Pleased to meet ya."

Ganju put on a big grin, which was slightly terrifying. I might have asked him to stop if he didn't start talking again. "But if you don't mind me asking, why weren't you with the others in the Rukongai?"

I blinked at Ganju while weighing the possibilities. Why hadn't I been with the others in the Rukongai? Because I had the ability to make myself invisible? Because I was so cool that the gatekeeper had let me in without question? Because I was Renji Abarai's favorite sex slave and had a free pass? Because Gin Ichimaru was in love with me and snuck me in for a romantic rendezvous?

Uryuu, maybe recognizing my far-off expression, chose to step in. "Please don't encourage her, Shiba-San. Kame-San took this mission into her own hands and abandoned our group very early in the game. She didn't seem to find the team structure as important as her own impulses."

Rather than feign offense, I made myself beam. "I missed that stick-up-my-ass attitude of yours, Uryuu. I don't know why I wouldn't have wanted to be in a team with you." To spite Uryuu (as if he even cared) I skipped up to Chad and threw my arms around his stomach. "And you too, Chad. You big lug, you're just as silent and imposing as I remember. And you all look so hard core in you Shihakushous."

I didn't really care that Chad didn't hug me back. It wasn't exactly a great time for me either, so I released him after only a few moments. I stepped back and scrutinizing the man that hadn't bothered to introduce himself.

"So, who are you?" I questioned.

The man reddened, coughed, and rubbed his fingers through the greasy strands of hair at the back of his neck. "I am Aramaki Makizou of Zaraki's Squad Eleven, Miss. It's truly a pleasure to meet you."

Maybe I had been aiming at the wrong types. At least ugly guys knew how to treat a girl, assuming I was reading into it right. Maybe if he shaved the mustache, washed his hair, and got a face lift, he wouldn't be half bad.

As flattered as I was, I wasn't sure how to respond to the situation. As lucky would have it, a huge burst of reiatsu stunned the need for my response, causing everyone's attention to veer off.

"That must be Ichigo, right?" Orihime uttered.

"No one else I know fights like that," Uryuu commented. "No one's that crazy."

"I'll tell ya what," the bigger guy, Ganju, said with a smirk. "I'm glad I never picked a friendly fight with him."

"You've got that right." Orihime rounded on the hideous man. "As the old saying goes…"

The start of that sentence alone told me it wasn't something worth listening to. Apparently it was important enough to start a debate over, though, and the group kept at it for a few minutes until Aramaki broke it up.

"You might want to have this talk _some other time_."

The group agreed, and then we were off. I wasn't even sure where we were going, to be honest, but in a weird way I didn't care as long as I wasn't alone going there. Besides, the surprise was half the fun.

* * *

Some time later, we came to the staircase that led up to the peak of the Soukyoku. But of course it was no ordinary staircase - it was a zigzagging, no-end-in-sight sort of death trap. I was out of breath just looking at it. A wise duo had once said that there "_aint no mountain high enough to keep me from gettin' to you"_, but the wise duo had never seen _that_ mountain of stairs.

"Looks like we finally found it, the entrance to the execution grounds."

"It's so high!"

"We gotta climb _that_?"

"We'll find Rukia up there somewhere."

At least I wasn't the only one none too enthusiastic about the climb. But I was still a whole lot braver than Aramaki, who vehemently tried to convince us all to back out of the plan. But, you know, he was probably just afraid of the big, bad spiritual pressure coming from what was surely Ichigo's battle at the top. What kind of Reaper was Aramaki?

Despite our squabbling and wheezing, we all eventually scaled the overgrown hill. At the peak we were met with, not an execution ground, but a forest. Whether it was from the disappointment, the lack of oxygen, or a combination of both, none of us had the will to go on right away after that.

We took some time to regroup, and even ended up finding a little person in one of the trees. The girls was charming at first glance, with cotton-candy pink hair and cherub cheeks, but I knew as soon as started talking that she probably wasn't the type to ever _stop_ talking.

When Ichigo's not-so-subtle reiatsu leakage got a little too much for us to handle, we decided to hold tight where we were and wait it out. It was actually a pretty cool lightshow if you ignored the fact that the pressure of it sort of crushed your lungs as some points.

Not really getting why everyone else but Aramaki and me were on their feet, I sat cross-legged in the dirt and started tracing some random patterns in the soil. Since I was only fooling around, it scared the crap out of me when a shrill whistle exploded my eardrums.

"Ha ha! It's Itchy!"

It was the pink-haired twerp, who was apparently a lieutenant, according to her badge. Gawd, her voice was annoying. She probably just annoyed her way into the position of a vice-captain. Her zanpakutou must have some kind of Jigglypuff effect, only instead of putting people to sleep it made them commit suicide.

I was a little grumpy given the turn of the events, understand.

I didn't realize what the girl was talking about until I noticed that she was pointing down at my doodle. I really had been drawing Ichigo. Or, rather, a giant strawberry with stick legs and arms. The fruit itself made up Ichigo's head; its enlarged seed details were morphed into his eyes, nose, and scowl; and the stem and leaves on top became tuffs of hair. It was pretty fantastic, actually, if I didn't say so myself.

"Yep," I said blankly, frowning and watching the tiny tot from the corner of my eye. "You know Ichigo?"

Pinky chomped down on one of her own fingers for some bizarre reason as she giggled. "You bet'cha! Itchy and Kenny had so much fun when they fought each other."

Kenny? What a weird name. But in my boredom, I had a flash of brilliance. "By Kenny, do you mean that Kenpachi guy from the Eleventh Division? The captain?"

My conversation partner laughed and spun around in circles with so much joy that I wanted to trip and strangle her. "Yeah, that's him! Kenny's so cool, isn't he?" Rather than letting me respond (which may have been a good thing, since I would have undoubtedly called "Kenny" a loser just to be a downer), the girl grasped my sleeve and, with unexpected strength, forced me to me feet and began pulling me through the forest.

"C'mon, Mouki! The rest of you, too. It's time to go! Itchy's almost done."

What did she call me?

The journey through the trees went by in a blur, probably because trees tended to look the same even when you weren't being dragged through them against your will. By the time we burst into the clearing where Ichigo was halfway dead, I was too dizzy to think properly. I was basically left teetering there like some kind of Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man.

I caught up with everything eventually, and eventually Ichigo had been healed to functioning status. I wasn't upset in the least when the lieutenant took off to take care of her own agenda, and the slow pace we adopted to accommodate the weak Ichigo brought my mood up even more. It wasn't all that long before I was back to my usual, cynically cheery self.

My days were perpetually being ruined, though. While slung over Ganju's shoulders, Ichigo called out to me, asking the inevitable, "Why aren't you with Renji and Rukia?"

But quick over stories were my specialty. "I had to break off when a group of low-level shinigami tried to intercept us," I relayed with ease, creeping myself out a little with my pro lying prowess. "I fought them off without much trouble, but I ran into Orihime and the others while trying to pick up on Renji's trail and just stuck with them."

Maybe all of my companions would have praised me, or maybe they would have called me out on my bluff. I didn't get to find out, since some disembodied voice rang out over all of the realm and announced that three captains had betrayed the Seireitei.

"You think this is all true?" Ichigo said, breaking the climactic moment.

"Maybe," Ganju answered first, "but it might also be the enemy's trap."

"That's possible, but I think it's probably true," Uryuu reasoned steadily. "Don't you sense the spiritual pressure that just appeared back up at the execution site?"

I wasn't worried about the spiritual pressure in question. I was worried about the fact that we had to go all the way back up the stairs we had just clambered half way down to get back to the execution site. Wonderful.

* * *

One minute Ichigo couldn't even walk without Ganju's aid, and the next he'd taken off on us without a word. I could have used the same trick and flash-stepped after him to the execution site, but something held me back and left me running with the others. It took us (minus Aramaki, who'd apparently taken off himself without me noticing) a while to make it to the Soukyoku, but once we did we didn't exactly arrive to a warm welcome.

"No, go away!" Ichigo was screaming. Normally I would have rolled my eyes and commented on his elementary choice of words, but the situation was way too morbid. Four captains were in the area, one looking dead where he lied and the other three not looking as if they cared at all. One of those guys was the man I recognized as Ichimaru Gin, who had also been named as a traitor by that anonymous, disembodies voice from earlier. They were the bad guys, they were right in front of me, and they clearly wouldn't have a problem with spilling my blood.

I scanned the area quickly, catching sight of a mangled Renji just beyond Ichigo's own wounded form. Beyond them I saw Rukia, who was in the clutches of a bespectacled captain-slash-bad guy.

"Rukia!" Orihime cried, seeing the same as me. Ichimaru shifted his position, blocking Rukia from our view. I stiffened, not knowing what would happen if he recognized me.

"Oh no, no, no," the vulpine male drawled, "ya shouldn't be movin'."

I wasn't sure who he was talking to, since he never did open his eyes, but it didn't matter. When he released a crushing wave of reiatsu just after speaking, I wished I could have said I wasn't completely terrified. It was stupid, and I would acknowledge that a million times over, but I never let myself fully realize what I was getting myself into until it was impossible to turn a blind eye. I didn't accept reality until I had absolutely no alternate, delusional option.

I'd reached that point.

"It's nice ter see ya again, lil' kitt'n," Ichimaru slurred after his subtle attack, much to my horror. "Ya were pretty funny while we fought, but ya might not wanna be jumpin' in this time or ya might get yerself hurt, ya hear?"

Thank the heavens. Just stay out of it and live. That sounded fine by me. Maybe Gin Ichimaru really was in love with me.

With none of us willing to reject the warning, the bespectacled captain, who I took to be the head honcho of the whole operation, went on to explain how he had manipulated every detail of the past month or so; he had been the one who had discovered Rukia in the Human World, killed Central 49 (whatever that was), sent Byakuya and Renji to make sure Rukia was arrested, planned her execution date - the whole nine yards. And it was all without a single soul being any the wiser of his role. To top it off, he mentioned something about a 'foreign object' being implanted in Rukia that still needed to be removed.

The captain's hand turned green and wrinkled due to some kind of barrier. Without further ado, the man's mutant arm made good friends with Rukia's chest as the two meshed into one, his fingers passing through her skin and blood and bones.

I couldn't help but think it. _Gross_.

When the enemy retreated his limb, there was a sort of diamond pinched in his fingers. Rukia fell to her knees, recovering from the shock, while the gold digger marveled at his find.

"Fascinating. I didn't expect it to be so small. The Hougyoku..."

It was hard to breathe or comprehend anything after that. I knew what was coming next. They couldn't just skip away into the sunset. They wouldn't. They'd killed too many people for too few reasons, and we weren't going to be an exception. We had no chance.

But help always seemed to come right when it was needed.

First there was Byakuya, who took Ichimaru's incoming assault head on to save the very sibling he had condemned to death. Then the massive Abu look-alike we met at the gate way back in the day fell from the sky carrying some weird woman Ganju addressed as his sister, Kuukaku. Just in the nick of time, Yoruichi and Soi Fon popped in, too, holding their blades to the man who had started it all.

Once those few showed there faces, there was no stopping more legitimate Soul Reapers from making their appearance. A woman with the largest breast I had ever seen secured Ichimaru while what I guessed to be every officer in the Seireitei suddenly landed in a scattered pattern around us.

A lot of people said a lot of big words about how it was over for Aizen, the bespectacled captain. But despite their mighty tongues, they all just sort of stood back and watched when a bunch of Menos Grande opened up a hole in the sky for Aizen and his accomplices to float up to and into. An ancient man who looked like he was about to keel over at any second said something about the barrier around the trio being impenetrable, but I wondered how he could really know without trying. Was nobody going to try? Not anyone, not anything?

Somehow, it all ended. Everything came to a close, just like that. The men who had caused so much trouble and cost so many lives ascended into the proverbial heavens, leaving their victims on the ground below. In some sardonic way, it was super lame. But it was over, and I was glad.


	15. Chapter 15

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

I was one of the saviors of the Soul Society. I was a _friggin' savior_. Read it and weep, baby!

After all of the Aizen business went down, the rest of the Seireitei was forced to realize that we - Ichigo, Orihime, Uryuu, Chad, Yoruichi, Ganju, and most importantly _I _- were the MVPs of the entire thing. And once you're recognized as a savior of the people, you're pretty much up there just under the Lord himself in social standing.

I had been enjoying my fame immensely, particularly while recounting my thrilling tale to any and all eager ears.

"A captain? No way!"

"And one of the traitors to boot."

"I bet you saw right through Ichimaru-Taichou the second you drew blades, Mikita-San!"

"Yeah, pretty much," I agreed with faux modesty, relishing in all of the attention. Even if they were just little nerd-bombers, the low-ranking Shinigami from the Thirteenth Division (where we had taken up quarters until we were transported back to the Human World, since it was Rukia's home squad and her captain was one of the few to realize Aizen's plans and revolt before an official order was released) were a great audience as I recited my fable for the who-knows-how-many-th time.

"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even consider that ridiculous story even remotely plausible," Uryuu said, always determined to dampened my day. But really, like I was going to take an insult seriously coming from a guy who was sitting in the corner designing his own clothing. "But that Ichimaru person did acknowledge you back at the Soukyoku…"

The confession earned a collective gasp from the tweeny-boppers before they broke out in a round of applause. I grinned. That was truly the life I was meant to live.

"Ichimaru-Taichou accosted you in front of Aizen-Taichou?"

"You must be seared into his memory after your battle!"

"Yes, he will never forget the woman who came so close to foiling his plans!"

I was like Batman or something. A legend. I wouldn't have believed it if it wasn't happening right in front of me.

Okay, this level of awesome calls for no sensory: FUCKING. BOMB. DIGGITY.

But, alas, all good things came to an end. Even adoring fans could get a little annoying after a while, believe it or not.

"Sorry, guys." I sighed, standing up and putting on a winning grin. "I think I'm gonna go wander around the Seireitei for a bit. You know, visit the same sites where I spilled my blood, now in the shadow of triumph as a free woman…"

I heard a distinctive snort from somewhere off to the right (three guesses who) but it was more or less drown out by the chirping Reapers.

"Of course!"

"Completely understandable!"

"Admirable - like a true warrior!"

"Would you like any company, Mikita-San?"

I walked backwards, using my hands to wave the offer away. "No, thanks. This is something I need to be alone for, ya know? It's extremely personal. I may get emotional."

I was able to clear the threshold and slide the door shut before their cries of support took full effect. Once safe and out of view, I broke out in cackles, Wicked Witch of the West style.

I was just too good. Or too bad. One of them.

Whistling in complete contentment, I made my way down the nicely polished streets of the Court of Pure Souls. For the first time ever, I was totally happy with the way my life was going. I was a celebrity with tons of people looking up to me; what could be better? Sure, it may have been based on a lie, but I was still one of the brave Ryoka who saved the day to a whole world's worth of people. I earned some credit just for carrying out that kind of master manipulation.

Not really caring to head anywhere in particular, I let my feet do the walking while my head chilled in its own little world. I relaxed, taking in the sun, and thinking about how thankful I was to have gotten a hold of a tasuki to tie those obnoxious shihakushou sleeves back. The thing was almost tolerable with that minor modification; despite all of the layers, it was actually pretty cool, and the dark color benefited me by attracting some extra UV rays. I just hoped I didn't start sweating. It would suck to damper my day when it was going so swimmingly.

But like I said, all good things came to an end.

With me being in that meditative state, I didn't really think to keep an eye out for where I was going. I must have figured that with my standing and everything any pedestrians would just stay the hell out of my way and silently redirect me if I was heading towards a wall. It worked for the most part, up until some jerk had the nerve to let me bump into them.

"Hey," I grumbled indignantly. Didn't these people know who I was? "Watch where you're-"

…Rut-Row.

Of all the people in the Soul Society, I had to run into _her_? Really?

And the cow didn't even bother to spare me so much as a second, dirty glance. She just glared once and started stalking off again. If Soi Fon had hadn't creeped me out enough in the past, she'd only further developed her uncanny ability to turn people off.

But all jokes aside, did she really not recognize me? I probably shouldn't have been super surprised or anything; the only woman that girl had eyes for was Yoruichi. Besides, Soi Fon and I had only had a handful of brief encounters. But still, I was a little disappointed. I recognized her face, but she couldn't have been bothered to remember mine? She had to have known the identity of all of us Ryoka by then, too. Did the name 'Mikita Kame' not ring and bells, at least?

My nose twitched when it started to snow. Wait, no, it wasn't snow. It was just some giant, fugly guy eating chips like a caveman and dropping the bits that didn't make it into his mouth onto my head.

"So," the hog said between bites, spraying a bit of spit on me along with mushy food bits. "You're one 'a them Ryoka brats, huh?"

He didn't sound particularly fawning or enthusiastic. It was sort of the opposite, really. If he didn't love me, he must be an idiot. A big lipped, behemoth idiot.

I had just finished wiping his waste product of of my face and opened my mouth to retort when a svelte body soared between us, extended its leg into the man's face.

I winced. That had to hurt. Damn, that Fon was one crazy ninja.

"You barbarian!" Soi Fon hissed towards her assaultee. Jeez, no mercy. "How many times have I told you to stop stuffing that grisly face of yours? And what's worse, don't stoop so low as to speak to this Ryoka trash."

Um, yes, I was still standing right there. They could have waited until I left to bad mouth me like normal people. Gosh.

Soi Fon resumed her dramatic exit after that, leaving her victim whimpering and holding his swollen cheek. He plucked up enough courage to scurry after her, though. Neither looked back.

I was half tempted to defend myself, but I was also smart enough to know not to push my luck with Soi Fon. Instead, I called out a casual, "It was nice meeting you, too."

Soi Fon went rigid, freezing in her steps. She turned her neck, sending me the most chilling stare I had ever received in my life. No kidding.

"Don't take me for a fool," the little-but-lethal female seethed. I shivered. "I know perfectly well who you are, Kame Mikita. I never forget a face, no matter how worthless that person is."

I was relieved beyond measure when, after a prolonged period to really drill the power of her hate into me, Soi Fon turned away again. As she left, she called over her shoulder, "But it doesn't matter to me at all who you are. As I said, you are nothing but Ryoka trash."

I didn't breathe any easier until Soi Fon and her flunky made it to the end of the street and disappeared from view.

Wow. That hadn't been too bad, actually. It could have gone a lot worse.

Then again, you know, I had a pretty serious reputation. Haters were how you knew you'd really made it in the world. Soi Fon could have been too scared to take me on. Starting something with the girl who made Ichimaru turn on his heel? Not a good move.

Yep, I was amazing. Marvelous. Incomparable. Stunning. Wonderful. Astounding. Electrifying. Breathtaking. Extraordinary. Stupendous.

"Excuse me...?"

I blinked, and my eyes sort of worked on their own to find out where the voice had come from. The closest person to me was a man who, conveniently enough, was also watching me. He was fairly tall, though a little lanky, with pig tails and emo bangs. Not only were his bangs emo, but so was his expression. The guy was visually bummed.

"Uh, yeah?" I raised a brow and tilted my head. "Did you need something?"

The man became increasingly uncomfortable, avoiding my eyes and wringing his fingers. For such a vertically gifted guy, he sure made himself look about two feet short when he acted like that. "I'm sorry to bother you," he said, "but it's just…Ah, wait. My name is Izuru Kira, vice-captain of the Third Division."

Vice-captain? That bashful little thing was a vice-captain? He didn't look like he could swat a fly and not feel bad about it.

"You see," Kira continued, "Gin Ichimaru was my former captain, and, if I'm not mistaken, the woman I've been hearing with his name in many of the rumors lately is _you_…"

Shit.

Kira unexpectedly looked up and held my stare. I felt a little sick. He was just so pathetic looking, like a kicked puppy looking for the love of its abusive owner.

"Please, I have to know," the man implored. "Did you really battle with my captain before he betrayed the Soul Society?"

"Yeah, I did," I said with a single nod, cheerless. It was hard to be sarcastic or smug with a guy who looked like he could cry if you made a wrong move

"If I may ask," Kira went on, sending my heart into a free fall. Damn it, he was going to ask me about the fictional fight. I couldn't lie to _him_. I would have to tell him a more truthful version - a version that made me look like a loser. But I wasn't a loser. I was a winner! "…would you please answer something for me?"

Nervous beyond measure, I gave him a wobbly nod. Maybe I was reading the wrong message? Maybe he wouldn't ask what I thought he was going to ask?

Kira took in a deep breath. "Did my captain give you any hints about his plans? Were you really able to see through his smile and realize the truth about him? Was there something there, something that I missed throughout all of our time together?"

Yes! Oh, for the love of strawberries, he didn't want to know about the mythical battle. I was safe!

"No, no, no," I assured the wreck of a Reaper, batting my hands in dismissal. "You weren't completely ignorant or anything. The guy was majorly off, but I just figured that all of you Soul Reapers were like that. No offense."

"Oh, I see…"

Rather than have a weight lifted off his shoulders, Kira's posture sunk in as if he had just gained fifty pounds. I didn't get what was going on, and I actually sympathized with him more than I would have expected. I was thoroughly chafed by his persisting misery.

"Is there anything else you wanted?" I questioned, feeling like it was the least I could do. Kira merely shook his head, his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry to approach you like this, but I'm just so lost," the vice-captain confessed. Despite my courtesy in offering to listen, I shuddered at the prospect. Was Kira seriously going to _confide_ in me? He didn't even know me! If he did know me he would know never to _confide_ in me. "I would have never imagined that Ichimaru-Taichou would do this. I trusted him and respected him; I was so stupid! I let him control me and use me as a tool in his twisted plans…"

Part of me wanted to slowly back away and make a break for it, but I had reason to believe that Kira might have committed suicide if I didn't stick around. It was awkward, to say the least, but I had to at least pretend to support him

"...He even convinced me to draw my sword against my friends. He turned me into a traitor, just like himself. I can't believe I let him control me like that. I never even stopped to think that what I was doing was wrong. I just had so much faith in my captain. I had no doubt that following him was doing the right thing to do…"

There was no sign of tears, so that was good. Kira had trailed off, so maybe that opening was my chance. C'mon Mikita, just open your mouth and say something comforting, just like in the movies. You're a nice, caring person.

"Um… it'll be okay? You didn't do anything wrong? It wasn't your fault?"

As deplorable of an attempt as it was, it sort of worked in its own bizarre way.

Kira lifted his head and furrowed his brows. "You're not used to soothing people, are you?" he ever-so-brilliantly guessed. The real miracle happened when a long-lost trace of a grin came onto his lips. Kira even managed to chuckle a little while he straightened up and extended a hand. "I'm sorry to dump all of that on a stranger. Let me introduce myself properly; I am Izuru Kira of Division Three. Thank you for taking care of me."

I put on a smile, taking Kira's hand without much hesitation. He was actually kind of cute when he wasn't acting so emotionally unstable; there was something Macaulay Culkin-ish about him, but not in a bad way. "Mikita Kame of the Human World. Nice to meet'cha."

The man before me tilted his head in polite acknowledgment, his lips pulling up a bit more after we exchanged greetings. I didn't know where we were going, but Kira and I ended up stepping in tandem towards whichever destination it was. Kira was no Renji, but he seemed like a decent enough guy to hang around with. Not my soul-mate-sex-god, but a potential booty call.

(I'm kidding.)

"How did you know who I was?" I wondered aloud as we walked. If you didn't count the first few minutes of our meeting, Kira was possibly the most normal person I had run into in the Seireitei. I didn't think it would hurt to keep him around for a while.

Kira seemed taken aback by my inquiry and took a second to respond. "Well, while passing by I recognized you as one of the Ryoka, and your appearance seemed to fit the woman that people are gossiping about, so I gave it a try."

"I didn't know I was so famous," I said with perfectly executed demurity. I really was turning into too good of an actor. "I mean, Ichigo did a lot more than I did."

Kira smiled, a tiny spark popping up in his eyes. "That might be true, but you're the one who managed to sneak in without the help of Kuukaku Shiba and her fireworks," he pointed out. "You were the only one to infiltrate the Seireitei without our knowledge; we believed there was only six of you up until the final event."

I crinkled my nose in thought, honestly surprised. I hadn't even thought about it that way. I guess I hadn't really been in any danger the entire time since no one had known I existed. But then how did Ichimaru know that I was a Ryoka and why didn't he tell anyone about me?

Kira snapped me out of it with an unexpected laugh. "And that's beside the fact that you fought with a captain and lived to tell the tale. Ichigo Kurosaki took on a number of formidable opponents, but you were the only one who took on a traitor."

My mood continued to sober. I hadn't bothered to look at it that way, either. Ichimaru was about as big of a deal as they came. I was one lucky bitch to be breathing, wasn't I?

"That sort of makes sense, I guess," I admitted slowly, caught between authentic humility and an urge for flamboyance, "but I really don't think I deserve all this attention."

"Nonsense," Kira insisted. "Without you and your friends stepping in, Aizen's damage could have been so much worse. I don't think any of us would have realized his deception until it was too late."

I laughed somewhat uneasily, glancing around at the unknown surroundings we were traveling though to keep my mind off the weird sense of guilt that was pinching me. "Hey, Kira? Where are we going?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Kira apparently hadn't been thinking about where his feet were taking him, so he had to pause to look around. "We're in the Ninth now. I was heading to see a friend of mine when I ran into you. His captain was one of the other traitors, Kaname Tousen. I was thinking that he might need his spirits lifted too, so I was going to invite him to drink with me and a few others."

"Ah, I get it," I said, glancing around for someone who looked like they could be a friend of Kira's. Like hell if I knew, though. "So what's this friend we're looking for's… name…?"

The words died in my mouth because, at that moment, the door directly ahead of us opened, and I died right on the spot, flying off to heaven and meeting the sexiest male angel I could ever imagine. Damn, it was better than X-Men, or Supernatural.

"Shuuhei," Kira voiced. The word didn't register in my mind as anything sensible. I stayed back when Kira pressed forward to approach the Adonis incarnate, unable to move. He was just too attractive. It almost hurt. I couldn't breathe.

So. Smokin'. Hot.

"Kame-San," Kira said as he advanced, "this is the friend I was talking about, Shuuhei Hisagi. Shuuhei, this is Mikita Kame, one of the Ryoka."

By the time the introduction was over Kira had reached his unbelievably alluring buddy. It took him a second to realize I hadn't followed, but all he could do was blink back at me in question.

Shuuhei Hisagi, huh? He was too hunky to handle. Literally. I wasn't functioning.

Shuuhei's expression held no emotion what-so-ever as he eyed me. "Is there something wrong with her?"

Holy Cheese Puffs. He even _sounded_ like an orgasm. I was so attracted to the guy that I couldn't even think straight. I was mush, utterly and completely.

Renji had tickled my fancy for a while, but he was nothing compared to Hisagi. Hisagi was bronzer, buffer, and overall better. A total bad-ass at first glance, just like I liked 'em. Beside the breathtaking biceps hanging out in full view courtesy of a shredded-sleeved shihakushou, the man had tattoos, too! I _loved_ tattoos. They weren't as impressive as Renji's, admittedly, but what they lacked in mass they made up for in meaning.

A six. A nine. Right on his cheek. Side-by-side. Sixty nine.

Shuuhei Hisagi, with absolutely no doubt in my mind, was the male I was meant to procreate with.

(I just had to hope _he_ wasn't in love with Rukia.)

"I'm not sure," I heard Kira's voice mutter with distant worry. "Kame-San, are you alright?"

I swallowed, blinked, and didn't bother opening my eyes afterward. I couldn't keep them opened; when there was a Shuuhei Hisagi in sight, there was absolutely no _brain_ in sight. Just hormones. Crazy, wild, let's have sex on the beach kind of hormones.

"Yeah," I spoke into the darkness. "Everything's fine."

"Why are your eyes closed?"

"Just taking a break." I cleared my throat. "They were starting to hurt from the light. It's brighter here than in the World of the Living."

"Ah."

I got the impression that they weren't buying my ploy. Shucks, I was acting like a freak in front of the most good-looking man in existence. But freaky was sexy to some, right?

I sensed that I was missing something in those few tense moments when all was silent between the three of us. You didn't need words to have a conversation, but if you didn't use words than eyes were almost always a necessity. I was the only one left out of that chat, therefore.

"Kame-San," Kira eventually voiced, "would you like to come drinking with us? I'm sure Matsumoto would like to have another woman's company."

Huh. Drinking and Shuuhei? Alcohol and Shuuhei? A drunk Shuuhei and me?

_Aw yeah._

For the sake of cordiality, so that I didn't look like a complete jerk in front of the love of my life, I decided to dust off my manners and put them to some use.

"You guys don't mind?" I asked, acting unsure. I peaked an eye open, taking a risk.

Shuuhei was staring at me. "You seem like you need it."

Yep, the guy definitely wanted me drunk, too.

* * *

"Wait," Matsumoto ordered, pulling the bottle of sake back just as I had been about to get my share. As it turned out, the woman with the enormous chest that I had seen attempting to restrain Ichimaru at the Soukyoku was the vice-captain of the Tenth Division. I was quick to learn that Rangiku Matsumoto was your typical big-boobed, beautiful-but-brainless woman. "Are you old enough to be drinking? I mean, you're still a kid, aren't you?"

It was a fair point. I had never drunk mass amount of alcohol before in my life, so I had never really stopped to consider if the whole scenario was technically illegal or immoral or not.

Shrugging it off, I decided to answer honestly. Had to look good in front of the future beau, right? "I guess so. I mean, I figure I'm about the same age as Renji, if he's able to go to bars and stuff."

Everyone looked confused.

"Aging doesn't exactly work the same way in this world, you know," the Matsumoto explained. I showed my canines in a grin.

"Oh, I know. I'm from this world. But it's a long story."

My company stared on without a word, their facial muscles going unused. Rangiku was the first one to break the ice, busting out a whoop of jubilation.

"That's good enough for me!" she cheered, filling my glass enough to borderline an overflow. "Let's get to it. The more the merrier!"

I snickered, sharing a toast with my fellow female. It might have been the beginning of a wicked friendship.

* * *

"You're such an idiot," Ichigo raved, scolding me on our way to the Senkaimon. It was time to leave the spirits behind us and go back to Urahara's place. I wasn't looking forward to it, really. Normal teenage life sounded like a snore fest. "I can't believe you went out and got yourself drunk."

I flinched, rubbing my temples. I had never had much of an interest in alcohol, but having a hangover would turn me off forever. It wasn't even like I'd drank gallons of sake and blacked out; apparently just getting tipsy didn't leave you with such a great feeling in the morning.

But a near-naked, totally smashed Shuuhei in the morning? That gave me a _great_ feeling.

I smirked as I thought back to the mini party in Matsumoto's office. "It's no big deal. It's not like I caused any trouble or anything."

Ichigo twitched, a stress mark making itself obvious on the back of his bushy orange head. "Toushiro had to send a message for us to pick you up in his squad since you were passed out on his desk! Do you have any idea how bad that makes the rest of us look?"

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't passed out, I was just sleeping. It's natural and necessary. Besides, have you ever tried to wake up after less than an hour of asleep and a rough night with friends? It's not easy."

Ichigo probably wanted to keep arguing and scold me a little more, but his chance was cut short when we reached the portal. I couldn't really be bothered to listen to Ukitake-Taichou's parting words, since I was too focused on memorizing every detail of my stay and wishing the last night could have lasted forever. It wasn't like Shuuhei and I had even really talked, let alone got physical, but it was just the fact that I was within a meter of him that got me spazzing. Sure, he may have been a bit too preoccupied with Matsumoto for my tastes, but I couldn't blame a guy for not being able to take his eyes from that swollen bosom of hers. How the hell was it anatomically possible to grow those things?

Either way, Rangiku had sort of become my favorite Shinigami ever. She was fun, insane, and had close to no respect towards her captain when they weren't in the face of danger. Needless to say, we had gotten along splendidly. Our companionship nearly made up for the fact that I was almost positive that Hisagi had a little crush on her. Why did I always have to be attracted to the guys who were shooting towards someone else?

The only thing I really got out of Ukitake-Taichou's speech was that he gave Ichigo a present and left all the rest of us empty handed. Really, if he wanted to give a gift to one person he should at least fork over something for everyone. I had thought that the captain of the Eleventh was a pretty cool guy, but that one cost him a few marks on my Soul Reaper popularity chart.

There were a ton of Shinigami that gathered around to see us of, most of which I either didn't know or didn't care too much about. There was Renji, of course, but I really wasn't in the mood to skip up to him and bid him farewell. After meeting Shuuhei Hisagi (wasn't his name alone so seductive?), Renji wasn't so impressive. So with only a few parting waves the gang and I were heading through the gate and into the Human Realm.

Well, there was the Cleaner there. Again. But it was no more difficult outrunning him the second time than it was the first.

It was all kind of a blur to me, but eventually we were all floating on some kind of tarp above Karakura Town. Kisuke was seated like the old sea goat that he was at the front of the cloth.

I had kind of missed him.

"My, my, welcome back everyone!" the shopkeeper sang with glee. I looked around, noticing how close we seemed to the stars. It was like ridding a flying carpet, like in _Aladdin_. If only Shuuhei were there to play my prince of poverty…

Ichigo, like the dork that he was, questioned how Urahara had known we were coming. Hadn't he seen enough crazy things in the past few months to learn that it was easier just to go along with them?

"It's good to see you again, young Ichigo," Urahara said, this time more cryptically. "I imagine by know you've learned the truth about me."

I'd thought he meant about him being a captain and all, but when he went all Izuru on us it clicked that he was the referring to how he was the one who hid that Houkyoku thing in Rukia and put her life in danger in the first place. Knowing that some touching scene between him and Ichigo was about to happen, I busied myself with staring out into the night sky and finishing up my Shuuladdin and Mikasmin daydream.

C'mon, don't even try convincing me that "A Whole New World" isn't stuck in your head right now. It's pretty much the most epic Disney song ever.

Ichigo raised his voice, and my name coming out of his mouth snapped me back to reality.

"I didn't forget you know, Mikita," the Substitute Soul Reaper said with a small smirk. "You promised that you'd spill about who exactly you are after we had saved Rukia and returned to the Human World. So come on, tell us. Who are you?"

I was sort of caught off guard by that. He had really remembered? I hadn't expect him to. Was he really that curious?

"I have to agree," Uryuu said coolly, adjusting his glasses for no reason at all other than to try and look suave. "Ever since you revealed that you had spiritual powers, I've been interested in that topic myself. Especially now that you carry around that sword so shamelessly."

Huh?

I looked down and noticed for the first time that Taimozou was still lodged into my obi. Sweat dropping, I mental smacked myself for being so careless.

"You guys don't want me to get into that now," I stated, trying to wave it off. I pulled off a pretty convincing yawn. "It's late and I'm exhausted after everything we've been through."

"That's strange," Urahara commented. "After all of the excitement, your adrenaline should still be running its course and making your body restless. It's practically impossible that you'd feel tired so soon after leaving the Soul Society."

I cast Kisuke a furious glare that let him know he'd have to sleep with one eye open. The treachery!

"It's late," I blurted bluntly. "We have to get home. We're already right above Karakura Town. There's no time."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Kita-Chan. I can circle this thing around all night if I have to!"

"Kame-Chan," Orihime's higher-pitched tone cut in. "Is that sword a zanpakutou? Does that mean that you're a Soul Reaper just like Ichigo?"

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my nerves. That kind of attention, I didn't like. "No, not like Ichigo," I cleared up, sort of irritated at the turn of events. "I'm no substitute."

"Tell us, Mikita," Chad urged. The unexpectedness of his input knocked the anger right out of me for a second. "We want to know where you came from, and how you came to be with us."

"It's really the least you can do for hiding you identity from us for so long," Uryuu justified.

Feeling the pressure of all those captious stares, I finally cracked.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you."

I closed my eyes, thinking back to about a hundred years earlier. I could see my earliest memories playing out like a movie. I nodded once I had gotten the scenes in order, ready to begin my first no-nonsense narration. My autobiography was going to be the real deal truth of how the Mikita Kame we all know and love came to be.

"So, here's how it all started…"


	16. Chapter 16

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

"…That's it?" Ichigo questioned dubiously. I nodded, feeling weirdly drained, probably bearing my soul or something sentimental like that.

Ichigo scratched his head, gazing out at the city we were passing over. "I have to admit it was a little anti-climatic. Since you live with Mr. Hat n' Clogs I sort of figured you'd have a story more like his."

"I think you were really brave, Kame-chan," Orihime exclaimed. "I would have never done something like that when I was a kid."

Uryuu snorted. "It's just as I would have expected of Mikita to be so reckless and defiant, even as a child. She has no respect."

I huffed and crossed my arms. If that was the thanks I got for coming clean, Uryuu could just shove it up his butt hole.

"Thank you, Mikita," Chad spoke, surprising me with his input, not to mention the ironic placement of it. "Now that we the truth about you, I feel like there's more trust between us. You're really on our side now."

I probably should have been touched that I'd earned the big lug's approval, but the fuzzy feelings were a little dampened by the fact that my allegiances had apparently been in question prior to me opening up about my past.

Everyone sort of drifted off in their own direction once the main event, my autobiography, had finished, getting dropped off at their homes until it was only Urahara, Yoruichi, Tessai, Jinta, Ururu and I left cruising in the moonlight. We were heading home too, though, and got there without exchanging any more words.

It was nearing day break by the time I settled into bed and thought back on my adventures. It was sort of a strange feeling, being home after so long. It almost felt like a dream; my bed was foreign to me and the room wasn't quite so cozy. But I brushed the jitters off, closing my eyes and hoping to get a little shut eye. Summer break was almost over, and my mornings of sleeping in were limited.

Somehow, most likely because I'd revisited the past after pretending that it didn't exist for so long, my dreams were monopolized by a movie reel of memories.

* * *

_As you may have guessed, the Great Adventures of Mikita Kame start off in the Rukon District of the Soul Society. Part of me wished I could remember which district I'd originated from but in the end it really didn't matter seeing as I'd only known the upper twenty levels. No, I wasn't some kind of noble, if that's what you're thinking. I wasn't poor as dirt either, but I was only about a step up from the most pathetic kind of poverty. Most beggar types were shunned away to lower level districts, but that concept had never made sense to me; pick-pocketing in the lower level districts accomplished nothing at all since nobody there had anything to steal anyway. I'd taken to skulking around the wealthier parts instead when I got old enough to use my common sense._

_Being so close to the heart of the spirit world, there weren't exactly a plethora of other scavengers around for me to team up with, so I adjusted to doing things alone and in my own way. No rules, no problem._

_Of course, that didn't mean life was easy or particularly pleasant. I had to sneak around; make do with whatever I managed to steal, food and clothes wise; sleep under the stars (even when the stars got sick of looking at me and called in the clouds); and maintain my hygiene well enough not to tip anyone off about my black sheep status. But for little ol' me, life seemed pretty peachy as long as I got a good meal in, so I wasn't complaining about lacking the luxuries most people longed for. Can't miss what you've never had anyway, right?_

_It was during that time in my youth when I learned about the Shinigami. I really didn't understand them at first, to be honest. What was the point of cleansing wayward souls? Who were Soul Reapers to decide what right and wrong was and enforce their criterion on everyone else? The way I saw it, Reapers were just a bunch of bullies that I didn't want to bother with. (The reality that Reapers made sure Hollows didn't dominate the world and go Godzilla on the population went right over my head.)_

_In those ritzy parts, catching sight of a few stray Soul Reapers on their day off wasn't much of an oddity. Besides the tell-all uniform, another sure sign that I was being blessed with the presence of a few Shinigami was the small mobs they tended to attract. People seemed to worship anything that came out of the Seireitei, which suited me just fine; it left their pockets unattended and carts of goods out of mind. When a few Death Gods showed up, I would get to work, swiping anything I could hook my sticky fingers on. If anything, Shinigami seemed to serve my needs more just by walking down the street than doing any fighting._

_It was on a cheerful morning when one of those aforementioned visits from a Reaper took place, like they did fairly often, only that particular heist was the first time in all of my years of success that things hadn't gone according plan._

"_Hey, brat. I saw that, ya know."_

_Scared out of my wits, I dropped the ready-to-eat turkey leg from the local butcher's vending cart._

_(What? Did you expect me to go after an apple or something lame like that? No way! Even as a kid I was too crafty for my own good. I wouldn't settle for a stupid fruit when I could go for the real meat. Get real.)_

_But anyway, I whirled around, sort of mortified that I was being caught in the act. I felt even worse when I saw who had ruined my record. The girl was no taller than me and didn't look like she could be much older._

_Despite her stature, the girl was obviously a Soul Reaper. Her shihakushou and zanpakutou were in blatantly view, looking almost funny on such a puny kid. It added on to the irony that she was sporting spunky blonde pig-tails. I probably would have snickered at the satire of it if her expression hadn't creeped me out so much. With her dull eyes and snaggle-toothed scowl, I wouldn't have doubted that that Reaper, as small as she was, could pack a mean punch. Just the cool-and-calm way she held herself reeked of uncaring confidence._

"_Saw what?" I questioned innocently, opting to play dumb. The girl was having none of that, though, rolling her muddy amber eyes and crossing two twiggy arms over a flat chest._

"_Don't flutter them eyes at me," she said, seeming boundlessly bored with the situation. "I said I saw ya tryin' to steal that turkey leg. Don't be thinkin' I'm stupid just 'cuz I'm not from around here."_

_I blinked. How was I supposed to handle that? Whenever I had imagined getting caught it had been a chaotic scene with mobs and torches and pitchforks poking at my butt. That chick barely seemed to care that I was breaking the law. Was I in trouble or not?_

_Deciding that my best bet was to assume the worst and put on a tough face, I went from sweet to sour, pursing my lips and narrowing my eyes. "Okay, what'll it take to keep your mouth shut?"_

_It wasn't until after I had gotten the question out that I realized the potential danger of my move. I was talking to a Soul Reaper, no matter how unimposing. I was most likely going to get dragged to prison by my hair. _

_The blonde didn't spring into action right away, which was probably a bad sign for me. She chuckled some instead and let a smirk creep across her face, drawing even more attention to the sharpened fang hanging out of her mouth._

"_Ya grab one for me, too," she told me._

"…"

_Was she serious?_

_Apparently. Taking notice to and getting aggravated by my flabbergasted expression, the girl snarled. "I'm hungry too, ya know. Don't keep me waitin' all day or I'll just go in there and pay for one myself."_

_I didn't even realize that her threat wasn't much of a threat. In my frazzled state, I scrambled to snatch up two legs of meat before instinctively fleeing the scene like there were fire ants in my pants. _

_I slid to a halt as soon as I turned into the nearest alley way. I collapsed against the wall and worked on stabilizing my breathing, then looked down at the two legs in my hands. Now what?_

_I blinked at some point and by the time I opened my eyes there was only one turkey leg in my lap. I gaped. Then I squealed when someone spoke from above me._

"_I hope ya weren't plannin' on eatin' my food, 'cuz I would'a had to kill ya if ya were."_

_It was the combination of that sentence and the sight of a girl hanging upside-down directly above me in mid-air that pretty much scared my ancestors all the way back to the Stone Age._

_My first course of action was to get out from under crazy Soul Reaper, so I bolted to the other side of the alley, awing at the girl like she was some kind of ghost. She noticed my stare and scoffed, but righted herself, as if to appease me. While she sank to the ground, she gnawed off a chunk of turkey leg before speaking through a full mouth._ "_Jeez, you're so jumpy. Get over it, kid."_

_Her feet retouched the earth, and she stuffed her face without reservation, showing no signs of leaving. I gulped, growing a little weary of my company. I had heard stories about the kind of magic Soul Reapers could pull off, but seeing it in the flesh was something surreal. Maybe people were right to bow down to those guys: they could kill you without batting an eye, couldn't they? What had I gotten myself into?_

"_The name's Hiyori, by the way," the girl introduced out of nowhere, sniffing deeply and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Hiyori Sarugaki. I like ya, what's your name?"_

_Doddering, I weight my options. Should I tell her? What could it hurt? It'd be better just to go along with what she told me, I figured, because she could hurt me if I defied her._

"_Mikita Kame. It's an honor to meet you."_

_The girl looked up with a sneer. "Don't give me that polite crap," she chastised. "Just tell me yer name without all 'a them pleasantries." _

"_Mikita Kame. My name's Mikita Kame."_

"_Better," Hiyori said. She frowned at the bare bone in her hands before locking gazes with my untouched poultry. "You gonna eat that, Kame?"_

_I handed the meat over without giving it a thought, flinching when Hiyori tossed her leftovers aside and snatched up my offering in a single fluid motion. Seeing as she seemed the most content with food in her hands, I built up some guts and turned the interrogation over._

"_Why didn't you just buy your own food?" I inquired, struggling not to let my nerves show with any stuttering. "I mean, you can obviously pay for it, so why would you go through the trouble…"_

_Hiyori waited until she had swallowed and picked the residual skin from between her teeth before answering. The pause seemed so long to me that I was half convinced she'd forgotten the question._ "_Why pay for somethin' ya can get for free?"_

_It was a simple explanation, but it made nothing but sense to me. I smiled some, feeling a little closer to the girl._

"_So, you goin' to the Shinigami Academy or somethin'?" Hiyori probed without much apparent interest, still too engrossed in her voracious chewing to convince me that she actually cared. _

_I shook my head. _"_No, I don't think so."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Why should I?"_

_Hiyori finished off the second leg and got rid of the evidence. With her attention now undividedly focused on me, she smirked. "'Cuz ya got a ton of reishi, that's why. I bet ya can even sense the differences in everyone's spiritual pressure and track people down, can' 'cha? Don' 'cha wanna be a Shinigami?"_

_I had never thought too extensively about it before, but it didn't take me more than a second to mull it over then and there. "No. Your uniforms are ugly."_

"_Ugly, huh?" Hiyori snorted. I shrunk back slightly, wondering if I had crossed some kind of line by degrading her work wear. "I'd still say this shihakushou's better than them rags you're wearin'."_

_I pouted but knew she had a point when I fiddled with a whole at the end of my yukata. _

"_It's not like I have anything else," my pre-pubescent self grumbled, just within Hiyori's hearing range. The blonde snorted again._

"_Not my problem."_

_Without another word, the short Shinigami wiped her hands on her thighs and started towards the alley exit. I stiffened, caught between letting it happen and running after her. I hadn't actually talked to someone for such a long time that doing it made me realize how boring life was without a buddy._

"_Wait," I called out, scurrying after the girl when my urge won out. Hiyori humored me, pausing to look over her shoulder as I caught up. Sheepishly, I shuffled my feet and thought of what I should say. It wasn't like I expected her to grab my hand and pledge our undying friendship. I didn't know what I expected. _

_Fortunately, I was cut off by the arrival of another Soul Reaper._

"_So here's where you ran off to," the newcomer, a man, said. He was strangely authoritarian even when he looked half asleep on his feet. "I didn't think I'd find you hiding with a Rukon girl, Hiyori."_

_I took in the new addition with raised suspicion. He was a captain, I was terrified to see, with dull blond hair and lidded gray eyes. On the outside, Urahara wasn't much different then as he is in the present, but there was something about his persona that was, paradoxically, more mature when he was younger. _

"_She's pretty cute," Urahara said, smiling down at me with genuine warmth. I gulped silently, not knowing what exactly to make of all the attention, especially when it took a turn away from flattery. "But she does sort of smell a little…"_

_Hiyori scoffed, twitching her nose. "No kidding," she spat. "She's a street rat, whaddya expect?"_

_Hiyori's male companion looked surprised, blinking down at the tiny blonde. "That's not very nice to say, Hiyori."_

"_It's the truth."_

"_But it's rude."_

"_I don't give a damn."_

_The man sighed, giving up hope with Hiyori and turning his attention to me instead. _

"_I'm Kisuke Urahara," he told me, a tired grin pulling up the corners of his lips. I nodded back, unable to find my voice. "Since you're a friend of Hiyori's, would you like to come with us to the Twelfth Division to get cleaned up?"_

"What?"

_I cowered away from the pair when Hiyori hollered. If swords started clashing, I didn't want to be in the middle of it. _

"_Whad'ya think yer doin'?" Hiyori squawked, her teeth visibly grinding. "You know only Shingami are allowed in the Seireitei. We can't just stroll in with the brat. She's not even my friend, anyway."_

"_It'll be fine," Urahara insisted. "I doubt anyone would even care to notice. We can just clean her up, give her some new clothes and a good meal, then bring her back."_

"_Don't be thinkin' yer bein' all charitable," Hiyori seethed. "It'll be like takin' in a cat for the night; ya give 'em a taste of generosity and they'll be sniffin' up your ass for the rest of their life, lookin' for more!"_

"_Calm down, Hiyori," the captain advised, delivering a light, completely unperturbed tap to the girl's head. "There's nothing wrong with doing a good deed every now and again."_

_With that settled, Urahara got back to the relevant matter: me._

"_So," he drawled,"what do you say we get going? You don't mind staying in the Seireitei for a while, do you?"_

_Honestly, I wasn't sure. It was illegal, apparently. And just dangerous in general. I didn't know those people at all. They could very well be leading me to my death._

_While deliberating, I gazed around the alley. If I refused Urahara's offer, it would probably be my home for the night. It was getting dark, so I wouldn't have much of a choice but to curl up there and wait until morning to scrounge around town again and get the meal I'd missed out on. I would also have to find somewhere to bathe since I was, as pointed out, in need of a scrubbing._

_I wasn't missing out on much even if I was killed by those two Reapers, was I?_

_With my mind made up, I locked eyes with the man that would irreversibly change my life in the years to come. _

"_Sure."_

_I had no idea what I was getting myself into._

* * *

"_See? That wasn't very hard at all." Urahara chuckled, strolling along the streets of the Seireitei in the direction of his squad (at least, I assumed). I, however, wasn't laughing. Most of my sour mood had to do with the fact that Urahara had scouted his third seat to help sneak me past the gatekeeper. The plan made sense because when I stood next to that guy, there was no doubt that all eyes would be on _him_._

"Mayuri will walk in with you since he's so ugly he'll take up all the attention,"_ Hiyori had explained to me. _"Plus, he was locked up as a prisoner in the Maggot's Nest before Kisuke busted him out, so he ain't used to hygiene and your stink won't bother him much."

_That information didn't help settle my nerves, but the prospect of a warm bath in the acclaimed Court of Pure Souls was conviction enough to stay close to the freak that was (and remains) Mayuri Kurotsuchi. _

_After successfully infiltrating the main entrance of the Seireitei, the group of us were able to relax some, since the worst was over. I immediately pulled away from Mayuri's side. Favoring Urahara at that moment, I kept in his shadow and took in the Wonderland that was the Seireitei._

_It wasn't what I'd been expecting. It was _disappointing_. There were no buildings made of diamonds or streets of gold like the fables hinted. It was just a nice city full of Shinigami, like there was a nice city full of Rukon citizens outside of its walls; there was nothing special about it._

_The whole adventure was a lot less exciting after that, and I continued on with a lowered head._

_The journey to the Twelfth Division went on in relative silence. When we arrived at our destination, the four of us scurried off to some unknown room where the door was shut and locked behind our backs. _

"_Right," Urahara said, taking initiative and clapping his hands together. "Hiyori, why don't you help get our guest cleaned up while Mayuri and I go back to work."_

_Hiyori didn't agree. "Why do I gotta be the one to clean her? I'm not some dog groomer! Get one of the unseated officers to do it."_

"_I'd like to keep the fact that we smuggled someone into the Seireitei between as few people as possible."_

"_Then do it yourself."_

"_I don't think that would be appropriate."_

"_Then stick her on Mayuri."_

"_That…would also not be very wise."_

"_If you don't require me for anything else then, Taichou," the third seat in question drawled, rolling his eyes, "I'll be off to the Research Institution to continue my work."_

_Mayuri was gone as soon as Urahara gave his consent. I breathed a little easier the second he walked out of the door. _

_Urahara sighed, running a hand through his lackluster locks. "I guess it can't be helped. I'll just have to call in reinforcements."_

_I wondered if I should have been afraid, but "reinforcements" only referred to a certain Shihouin and her Fon guardian. _

"_What have you got here, Kisuke," the beauty of the Second Division asked upon arrival, eyeing me with piercing gold orbs. I was entranced by her stare, my nerves both exploding and vanishing all at once. _

"_Hiyori, Mayuri and I took in a stray for the night," Urahara relayed, rubbing his fingers into my greasy scalp. I inched away from his touch, not really crazy about the skinship (or being referred to as "a stray", really__.__) _

_Yoruichi smirked. _"_I can see that, but what does this have to do with me?"_

"_You see," the Twelfth's captain said, apparently not taking my rejection personally,"I was thinking we should give Mikita here cleaning so her face can match up to her name. No point in having a pretty name if your face can't go with it, right?"_

_I blinked in a weird sort of wonder, looking at the man in an entirely new light. No one had ever called me pretty before, as far as I knew. Urahara was the first one who'd come close to it. _

"_And let me guess, you need me to scrub her down for you?" Yoruichi sighed. "Well, I suppose I can put my paperwork off for a while and do you this favor, Kisuke."_

_I thought about telling them that I was perfectly cable of bathing myself, but didn't want to push it. I looked instead to the girl behind Yoruichi, who was standing there like a trained soldier even when she couldn't have been much older than I was. She was long and svelt, with dark hair cut straight at her shoulders and dark eyes that didn't look like they were actually seeing anything. Were most subordinates, minus the unorthodox members of the Twelfth Squad, as devoted to their jobs as that girl?_

"_Well then, Mikita, let's get to it," Yoruichi said, drawing my attention. "Kisuke and Hiyori, get out. Soi Fon, guard the doors."_

* * *

"_There now," Yoruichi soothed. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"_

_I shook my head, more because I just didn't want to think of a more clever way to respond than out of whole-hearted agreement. It was sort of strange feeling so clean. There couldn't have been a single speck of dirt left in the pocket of my armpit, and even though I almost felt reborn, that also came with a sense of vulnerability that wasn't altogether fun. Who knew so much could come from a bath?_

_Yoruichi smiled as she rubbed a towel over my newly silken hair. "This must feel a lot better than you're used to, Mikita."_

_I nodded, again just because it was the expected response, and distracted myself with some left over bubbles. The noble woman shook her head once before calling over her shoulder for Soi Fon. The guard was there in a flash, knees to the floor and head bowed. _

"_Soi Fon, you're about the same size as Mikita here," Yoruichi remarked. "Would you mind lending her some of your clothes?"_

_The eerily obedient girl blinked, looking up at her superior in question. "You want me to retrieve some of my clothing to give to this girl?"_

_"That's what I said, isn't it?"_

_With her mission confirmed, Soi Fon nodded with renewed determination. "Yes, Yoruichi-sama."_

_She was gone as quick as she came. I stared at the spot where she'd been kneeling, not understanding her unhesitating loyalty in the least._

"_That girl really is something." Yoruichi exhaled, going back to drying off my body. "Even after all of this time I can't get her to address me casually."_

_I didn't have anything to say, so I just kept staring, trying to tone down the shivers that were using my skin as a dance floor. The water had finished draining, and my damp skin wasn't getting along with the cool air. _

"_You know, you're really lucky to have been found by Kisuke," Yoruichi went on. "Anyone else would have just passed a beggar like you without a second glance."_

"_He's not the one who found me," I spoke at last. "It was Hiyori. That man just joined us later on."_

_Yoruichi smirked knowingly. "But I'm willing to bet that Kisuke is the one who invited you here. He probably had to convince his vice-captain to go along with it, am I right?"_

_I shrugged, mumbling my affirmation. Yoruichi snickered._

"_Kisuke is a good friend of mine. I know him better than anyone," she told me. Curious, I looked her way for the first time. "It's just like him to want to take in a lonely child."_

"_I'm not lonely," I protested more vehemently than I'd intended__._

"_You live alone on the streets, don't you?"_

"_Yeah, but that doesn't mean__-__-"_

"_Then you're lonely," Yoruichi settled. Knowing better than to talk back, I settled for pouting while the older woman tossed aside the damp towel she'd been using and got a new one. Who was she to tell me what I was or wasn't? What the heck did she know?_

"_But you know," Yoruichi continued, sounding more austere, "you might have been better off back in the Rukon Disctricts. When Kisuke has to bring you back, you'll probably end up feeling worse than you ever would have if you'd never been taken in. When a person shows you kindness, you get attached. When that person has to leave you, the abandonment hurts more than anything."_

_I mulled over her words. It made sense, but still…_

"_So, basically, I should never speak to anyone ever again so that I don't get hurt?" I summed up._ _I took Yoruichi's hesitance as an answer. "That's dumb. If everyone minded their own business just so they wouldn't have to deal with loss, no one would ever have any friends. Why bother interacting with people at all? You should dump that Urahara guy then, shouldn't you, so you won't feel bad somewhere down the road when you guys split up or something?"_

_The silence that followed filled my stomach with rocks. Should I have run my mouth like that? Was it considered a crime to speak out against a captain of the Court Guard Squads?_

_Yoruichi, however, found my inability to hold my tongue more humorous than affronting. _

"_I guess you're right," she said, laughing. She wrapped the new towel she'd grabbed around my form and helped me out of the tub. I wobbled on my land legs, but my eye never left the Shihouin for more than a few seconds. "Sometimes the pain of separation is worth it in the end when you think back to all of the good times. You just have to make sure that when you pick your companions, you pick the right ones that will last you longer than a lifetime."_

_Yoruichi began helping me into a new yukata, making quick work of getting me dressed in the hand-me-down robe. I was so caught up in our conversation that I hadn't noticed Soi Fon come back._

_Once I was clothed, Yoruichi stood and stepped back, admiring her cleanly creation with a spark in her eye._

"_Now, let's go see if you're Urahara approved, Mikita."_

* * *

_Urahara's face was stony, pressing down on me like a three ton weight. Did he not like it? Did he not like _me?

"_I was right," he declared finally. What was even more frightening than his virile display, however, was the huge grin that took over his face and the way he lunged forward to pinch my cheeks. "She's totally adorable!"_

"_Hey," I protested, my voice cracking on a squeal. "Stop it. That hurts!"_

_Urahara chuckled as I clawed at his wrists but ultimately humored me and pulled away. He turned to his second in command. "What do you think, Hiyori?"_

_The lieutenant crossed her arms and barely sparing me a glance. "She's okay. At least I won't have to smell her anymore."_

_I figured it was the closest thing I would get to a compliment from Hiyori so I smiled some in gratitude. Hiyori caught the gesture from the corner of her eye and couldn't fight off the slight upturn of her own lips._

_Urahara crowed. "Look at this, Yoruichi. We've all bonded with little Mikita here. I don't know if I'll be able to send her home!"_

_I wasn't the only one who felt the mood sink to the heart of the ocean._

"_Kisuke," Yoruichi warned. Urahara sobered up immediately__._

"_I know, I know," he agreed. "You think it's cruel of me to put ideas in her head." Urahara smiled a little more. _"_I know taking her under our wing permanently is impossible, but what's so bad about a visit every once in a while? That shouldn't be too much of a problem, should it?"_

_I didn't know how I was supposed to be feeling in that moment. Everyone kept treating me like I was incapable of making my own decisions or accomplishing anything for myself. I'd lived pretty long on my own, hadn't I? I wasn't mentally crippled, I was homeless. _

_But still, I wouldn't deny myself the opportunity to continually sneak into the Seireitei for a good scrub and hot meal. I would let myself be used if it benefited me in the long run. After all, it was survival not of the fittest, but of the smartest. _

* * *

_Regardless of what Yoruichi, Hiyori, or anyone else thought, Urahara and I connected. That link between us overrode any personal opinions from the outside and kept me tucked away in the Twelfth Division headquarters periodically through the months following our initial meeting. I would wait things out in the upper Rukon while I had to, but my life at somewhat of a stand-still until Urahara came to deliver his charity, as he put it. He was always so corny like that, but the memory of his stupid face kept my worries at bay during the nights when I was left to stare up at the starts from my bed in the dirt._

_At first, my unlawful entrances into the Seireitei were kept at a here-and-there minimum like we'd planned. Things soon changed, though, and Urahara would swoop in to pick me up weekly, and then eventually every few days. _

_After all of the time I spent in the Twelfth, I'd unraveled that Urahara and his squad were sort of the mad scientists of the Seireitei, conducting endless amounts of experiments and always hard at work in their laboratories developing new (and seemingly useless, in my opinion) gadgets that were said to assist Soul Reapers in a variety of ways. Honestly, I thought that a lot of the inventions would just find a way to bite the Reapers in the ass somewhere down the line, but Urahara never bothered to see things my way._

_But I was still a kid, and still curious. _

"_Does it pee? Can it eat and drink like normal? How does it work?"_

_Urahara chuckled, fiddling with the artificial body in front of him at his work station. _"_Don't worry about it, Kita-chan," he told me, trying to find a better angle to screw in a particularly difficult bolt. "Maybe one day you'll be able to go to the Human World and try one out for yourself." _

_I smirked and glanced to the gigai beside me, since my bum was parked contently on Urahara's work table. I guess in a way I had become Santa's helper in relation to the Twelfth captain, he being the Christmas Saint laboring on new creations and I the cute, colorful elf who was always much more popular in the movies. It seemed like the perfect kind of relationship to me then._ _I started to forget about its taboo after a while, and the possibility of our bond being broken. _

_Mass amounts of hollering and banging weren't exactly a rarity in the Squad Twelve, especially with Hiyori having the loudest mouth and most violent temper in the whole Soul Society (at least as far as I knew). So when Urahara and I heard her infamous yelling that day, we thought nothing of it. And since we thought nothing of it, we were pretty much blind sighted when a humanoid figure came barreling into Urahara's lab, smashing through the doors and rocketing straight into the opposite wall with a bone-breaking 'THUNK'._

_I didn't recover from the shock for almost a full minute; I'd only been a few inches away from having that lug of flesh pound right into _me_ rather than the wall beside me. Eventually, though, my inquisitive nature won out and I lowered my eyes to the sizzling heap of a person that was crumpled on Urahara's floor. _

_It was another captain, which was made obvious by the white haori that swamped their lanky form, who had pin-straight, flowing, straw-colored hair. I couldn't pick out any of the person's other features, seeing as what should have been a face was nothing but a swollen bruise at that point._

"_Shinji," Urahara said, his brows screwed up. It was only then, after seeing Urahara's reaction, that it struck me that the situation could have been a very bad one: the guy on the floor could hand Urahara and I over the Soutaichou. (Once he recovered, anyway.)_

"_I tried to stop him," Hiyori said, walking into the room with chilling carelessness, stepping over the body she had previously pummeled like it was nothing but a dust bunny, "but he wouldn't listen. At least now he's unconscious and can't see anything."_

"_Unconscious, am I?"_

_I was the only one who audibly gasped, but the room shared a collective startle when the alien voice spoke. Being almost directly above the stranger, my eyes shot down to stare into his alarmingly lucid gaze_

"_So you're that kid Hiyori was blabbing about…" the man whispered in a husk, looking me dead in the eye. He didn't exactly look or sound like the compassionate type. His eyes were hard and beady, his expression disinterested yet calculating. The worst feature on the guy, to me, was his mouth - those perpetually smiling lips that held no real emotion. They were only there to distract you from the gears tinkering away in his mind._

_Not that it worked__._

_The grounded captain's muttering was just loud enough to carry through the room, and Hiyori's name stuck out like a sore thumb._ _The girl in question stiffened as Urahara rounded on her. _

_"Hiyori, what exactly did you tell Shinji?"_

"_Nothin'," the girl assured without missing a beat. The man below me snorted, lifting himself up onto his elbows and freeing me from his intense gaze at last__._

"_If by 'nothin' ya mean everything about how yer captain's been harboring a new pet from the Rukon then yes, ya didn't tell me a thing."_

_Urahara restrained his fuming lieutenant when she attempted to attack. Despite being in the line of fire, the other captain ignored Hiyori's snarling, pulling himself up from the ground as if instantly healed and brushing off his uniform. I didn't really have the time to prepare myself before he finished grooming and swooped down to stare at me again. _

"_You're pretty cute," he murmured to himself after a second, placing a finger to his chin in thought. "Maybe in a few years you'll grow up to be my first love."_

"_Quit saying that!" Hiyori commanded from Urahara arms. The man before me turned to face her, his curtain of blond hair flowing with the motion before settling half-way down his back. "You say that to every girl you meet, asshole! If you're going to include a brat like her, you need to start saying it to me, too!"_

"_I apologize for Hiyori, Hirako-Taichou," Urahara said with a grin, seemingly at ease despite all of the drama. "But I have to ask, what exactly were you and Hiyori discussing that brought you to my office?"_

_He said it like the guy had just strolled in on his own accord._

"_Oh, nothing much," Shinji expressed vaguely. "Just something about how jealous she is that a cutie is stealing all of her captain's attention."_

"Jealous?_"_

"_Don't worry though, Kisuke," our guest said, sending one last glance my way before making his way towards the remnants of the door. "I won't tell a soul. Frankly, whatever ya do is yer own business and no concern to me at all. As long as it won't cause too much trouble for anyone, ya can do whatever ya please."_

_With those parting words and a lackluster wave, the man was gone. Urahara released Hiyori once he was out of sight and the girl plopped down on the tiles of the lab with an almost visible, raging aura. Urahara chuckled some, sheepishly, before beaconing me to his side._

_"I__ guess that's our cue to get you out of here, Kita-chan," he said. "All of that commotion might attract some unwanted attention from some less friendly folk."_

* * *

_Whenever Urahara brought me back to the Rukon District, he departed with a promise of "see you soon". Now, I understood that "soon" was an ambiguous phrase that stood for no set period of time: it could mean minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years depending on your outlook._

_In the mind of a much younger me, two weeks was far too long to count as "soon"._

_The jump between visits was made even more suspicious once another two weeks went by, making it an entire month since Urahara's dopey face had come into my life. Needless to say, I was _not_ a happy camper. I'd been ditched, and I didn't appreciate it._

_I was still innocent then, though, so I didn't turn to apathy to cope. Rather than cursing the old goat and moving on, I jumped to the conclusion that something very wrong was going on in the Seireitei that was keeping him from me. It was the only explanation I could think of, because Urahara wouldn't just leave me hanging. _

_When I got sick of playing sitting duck, I took matters into my own hands. I was an expert burglar by then and infiltrating the Seireitei wasn't any harder on my own than with an officer there to assist me. The bubble that protected the city was pretty pointless when a kid could just shuffle through the opened gate undetected. It was cake. _

_As serious as the circumstances were, I couldn't help but think of myself as a woman on a mission. I was a spy, a rebel on the hunt and on the run__.__ Rolling around in the streets and tumbling around every corner wasn't play, it was work. _

_What I didn't really understand at the time was that that the "succeed or die" kind of mindset wasn't all that far from nonfiction. _

_I'd assumed that I'd have to use every trick I knew to get the information I needed, as if the truth regarding the disappearance of a certain Kisuke Urahara would be some clandestine topic locked away behind Fluffy the Three Headed Dog. I was a little horrified to discover the story almost as soon as I found a nice niche to curl up and eavesdrop in. The scoop was top gossip all around me._

"_Have you heard? Kisuke Urahara was behind the disappearance of those captains and vice-captain that went missing. He used them for his own unauthorized experimentations!"_

"_Yeah, apparently he attempted to fuse their souls with Hollows to create some kind of hybrid. Crazy, isn't it?"_

"_You've got that right. I always thought that guy was all right. Now he and the head of the Kidou Corps have been banished to the Human World."_

"_I heard they managed to jump ship before the Soutaichou could remove their spiritual powers, though. They're still running around somewhere with their Soul Reaper abilities."_

"_I heard the Soutaichou was planning to destroy those mutated officers, but they vanished with Urahara. He must not have wanted to lose all of that data, you know? Who knows how dangerous that guy is and when he'll strike back."_

"_I know what you mean. It's hard to believe that our higher-ups would betray us like this. Yoruichi Shihouin was involved somehow, too, and now she's gone as well. Between the fugitives and their victims, this whole thing was a huge blow to our forces. All those captains and vice-captain's gone..."_

_"Damn that Urahara."_

_I couldn't do anything for a while, not think or move or even breathe. Urahara had turned his own comrades into experiments? He'd done something so terrible and fled the Spirit World to escape penance? He was a murderer, more or less, and a fugitive?_

_When I regained full control of my bodily functions, I came close to laughing. They were wrong, those Soul Reapers and all of the Seireitei. They hadn't really known Urahara, clearly, but I had. Urahara was innocent, anyone who thought otherwise was an ignoramus, and I knew better than to buy into whatever rumors were circulating, no matter where the words were coming from. I didn't know what was going on or why everyone was blaming Urahara for it, but I did know that the Seireitei wasn't a place that I wanted to be if it was full of elitist butt-heads. They were the worst kind. _

_Naturally, therefore, I had to go to Urahara. The Human World was big, but I had plenty of time to search. There was nothing holding me in the Soul Society, so the pull of the World of the Living was one I was willing to follow for as long as it took. _

_There was a difference between being smart and being clever, and I had the great privilege of excelling in both. I couldn't spit on the Seireitei as soon as I would have liked because Shinigami were my ticket to the other realm. I had to be persistent and patient until I could figure out a plan and make my move. While I planned, I needed to lay low among the enemy._

_It took something close to a week before I managed to work things out. I'd ventured around the Court and come across a portal that I wagered lead to where I wanted to go. It was used at least once a day by either incoming or outgoing Reapers, so it came down to the matter of calculating how long the portal would stay open and how to slip through without interference. It was trickier than the gate into the Seireitei, since I had no way of telling what was beyond the threshold, but there wasn't much of a choice but to just go for it. I won't go into the nitty-gritty details, since we all know that I did, of course, succeed quite splendidly._

_In hind sight, it seems strange that the portal would have landed me in the core of Karakura Town. How could other Reapers not have bee able to find Urahara if they all but landed on his doorstep? Either way, I was beyond elated when I managed to pick up on the faintest trace of the old geezer's reiatsu straight out of the gate, and I got to hunting without stopping to take in the scenery. _

_It was some time in the night when my pursuit brought me to an unassuming little house in the forest._ _Standing there at the end of the line, I was seized with anxiety. What the heck was I supposed to do? Just knock on the door? What should I say? What if he didn't want me with him? What if my tracking wasn't as great as I thought it was and I'd sniffed out the wrong spiritual pressure?_

_I felt sort of stupid standing there and freaking out, so I decided to stop being a dramatic idiot and just hammered at the door. _

_No one answered, but I was relentless. It seemed like hours passed before the door finally creaked open, a strange mammoth of a man poking his head out and looking down at me through thick, rectangular lenses._

"_I am sorry, Small Miss," the man uttered, his deep tone having a booming quality even when he tried to keep it at a hush. "You are mistaken. There are no Shinigami here to help you cross over."_

"_I don't need to go to the Soul Society," I told him, wanting to roll my eyes but too afraid to actually do it. "I just left that place. I'm here to see Urahara."_

_The giant was visibly stumped. "Um… Ther-there is no man here by that name. Please leave-"_

"_Wait, Tessai."_

_And what do you know, there _was_ a man there by the name of Kisuke Urahara and he had decided to grace us with his presence. _

_Urahara took over, brushing his companion off to one of the back rooms while the two of us made ourselves comfortable in the parlor._

"_What are you going here, Mikita?" the ex-captain questioned softly as we faced one another from across a low table. No matter how somber he sounded, I knew he wasn't really that upset with me._

"_Well, obviously I'm here to see you," I said, sitting up straight and lifting my chin. "You said you'd come back for me 'soon', but my idea of soon and your idea of soon on opposite ends of the spectrum. You might be trying to get rid of me, but Hiyori did warn you that it wouldn't be that easy."_

_Despite himself, Urahara released a dry chuckle. I almost grinned. His reaction wasn't much, but at least he'd loosened up a little. _

"_You don't understand," Urahara said once the weak laugh passed, sighing pensively. "I'm not here on vacation. The situation is-"_

"_I know," I interrupted. "You were accused of experimenting on a bunch of your comrades and banished from the Soul Society." I was tempted to crack at the unadulterated bewilderment my words brought to the man's face, but I knew it wasn't the time. I wasn't finished, either._ "_I don't believe it. You're not that kind of guy."_

_Rather than pacifying Urahara's mood, my confession upped the level of tension._

"_Mikita," Urahara began sternly, "you can't stay here. You shouldn't have come at all. Yoruichi was right, I should have never taken you in to begin with. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry I didn't realize it sooner. I'm not sure how you managed to track me down, but you have to go back to the Soul Society. The Human World isn't a place for rogue spirits-"_

"_Like you?"_

_Urahara was stumped for only a second before he sighed again. I got the feeling that he was too close to the end of his rope to keep arguing with me. His exhaustion and glum were obvious and understandable. Figuring it was best to put aside childish talk and melancholy, I composed myself and looked at things rationally._

"_Look," I said, "it's not like you _have_ to take me in. It's not your responsibility and I can take care of myself on my own. For what it's worth, though, I'd rather be stuck here with you for the rest of eternity than skulking around any world alone." I blinked and added as an after thought, "no pressure."_

_I could see the effect of my words on Urahara, and a smile popped up on my face as a result. "Besides, it's payback for leaving without telling me. Now you're stuck with me forever."_

_Urahara chuckled with a little more life, and I was sure that his mind was made up - in my favor. He allowed himself to stay at ease for only a moment or two before his expression turned serious again and he caught my eye. "You do know that things aren't going to be the same, don't you?"_

_I nodded affirmatively._

"_Well then," he said with an exhale, "what exactly are we going to do with you? I suppose I'll have to teach you the basics of being a Soul Reaper, since we'll be bound to attract our fair share of hollows and you'll need to protect yourself. Maybe you could try going to school after that, too."_

"_School?" I questioned. I was only used to hearing the phrase in adjunction with the Shinigami Academy, so I was picturing something similar. "They have that here, too?"_

"_They sure do, only without the battle elements. It's more of just a general knowledge curriculum, if I understand it correctly."_

"_Why do I have to go, then? It sounds useless."_

"_What else are you going to do?"_ _He had a valid point, so I conceded._ "_But first things first, I'll have to make you a gigai of your own so that you can interact with the humans."_

"_Interact with the humans?" I repeated like a song bird. The idea sounded ludicrous at the time for some reason. "You mean I'll meet other kids and stuff?"_

"_Sure, why not? You up for making a few friends?"_

_The truth was I'd never really had any friends. The street life wasn't one of camaraderie, in my case, since the only younger soul I had ever been exposed to were nobles that I wasn't stupid enough to try to approach. I really wasn't confident with my ability to converse with anyone my own age, but I was too proud to let Urahara know that._

"_A few?" I scoffed. "I'll make friends with every kid around. Just wait and see. I'll blow your mind."_

_And, as cheesy as it is to say:_

_The rest is history._

* * *

"Mikita~ Oh Kita, darling. Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey. It's time for your first day of school!"

Damn that Urahara. I wanted to kick him straight in the face and get him the hell away from me. Who did he think he was, waking me up? I didn't want to go to _school_, I wanted to _sleep_. What the hell kind of persuasion was "it's time for your first day of school" to get a kid out of bed? No one _liked _school, much less high school.

"I'm dropping out again. Leave me alone," I grumbled into my sheets, pulling my pillow over my head. It didn't do much to detour or drown out Urahara's enthusiasm, though.

"Come on now, Kita-chan. You wouldn't want to disappoint your friends, would you? They'll be expecting you to be by their side as you dive into a new semester of learning! I bet you're all so much closer now after your adventure in the Soul Society."

"I don't have any friends," I growled with a clenched jaw and eyes, wishing that life had a mute or pause bottom. "Friends are for losers."

I sensed Urahara's falter, but I really didn't care how heartless I sounded. I didn't exactly wake up on the right side of the bed. But then again, was there a right side of the bed to wake up on?

"Fine then, Kita-chan," Urahara resigned. "If you change your mind, we'll be waiting."

Urahara left my bedroom, but the damage had been done. After a few minutes I tumbled out of bed, groaning and contorting my limbs like a yoga master, before shuffling my way into the cozy little dining room, expecting a breakfast fit for a queen. Urahara said that there would be a western meal of lardy bacon, eggs, and the works, right?

Wrong. All there was was rice.

"What the hell? You told me there was eggs and bacon, you ass!"

"Now, now, Mikita," Urahara sang, waving his hand-held fan fanatically, much to my chagrin, "that's only a saying! In truth, Tessai will be running out for groceries later today and this rice is the only edible food left in the house. Isn't that funny?"

Funny my butt.

"Eff you guys," I spat, turning on my heel and marching down the hall back towards my bedroom. "You know what? I will go to school today. At least they have decent snacks."

"Ah, that's my Kita-chan. Always such an optimist!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**So, I have to apologize. For a few things. **

**One being how long it took me to get this "update" done. Besides my usual excuse of just being a busy-body slash lazy-ass, I also had to re-write this chapter THREE times. First I broke the USB it was originally on, so I had to start over. Then I lost that second USB, so I had to start over again. By the end I was exponentially sickened by process or re-writing (and I already pretty much abhor it) so this part probably isn't much better than the original in terms of revisions and such. **

**Second, I recently realized that there are a few users who have left reviews to my stories and not received replies from me. I've always made it a point to reply to reviews because, as an author, reviews are what **_**feeds**_** me. However, the email address I had associated with this site became outdated (*cough*becauseIhaven'tsignedininlikefivemonths*cough*), so I never got the alerts. Well, I did technically **_**get**_** them, but they went to an email address I no longer use. I'M SO SORRY for that. I feel like a douche, for real, and I don't even feel like I can respond to them now to make up for it because it's been so effing long since they were left. T^T  
**

**I put this note here rather than on my profile because the reviews I get for this story are almost literally the only thing keeping me going at this point. This story used to be my baby, but when I started this re-vamping project I had no idea it would be as difficult and exhausting as it's turned out to be. There was a stretch in summer/fall when I got no reviews despite doing my best to get through the re-write, so the fact that I got a few of them while I was slacking really helped to light a fire under my butt. I'm not saying I would give up all together without you guys, because after everything I've put into this story it would really hurt me not to see it through, but I would definitely be going at even more of a selfish, sloth-like pace. Thank you all for supporting me and Mikita. I hope you'll continue to hang in there with us till the end, however far off that is!**

**That is all. Carry on~**


	17. Chapter 17

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

As a growing girl, I couldn't wait until lunch break to get some decent chow into my system, so I stopped by a bakery type of deal on the way to class and picked up a few well-earned goodies. The pit stop took more time than I'd expected and made me late for school, but I didn't have the foggiest hint of regret.

"Oh, Kame, you're here," Sensei said as I made my way into the classroom. I was the last one there and the center of attention. "I was hoping you'd given up on education and weren't coming back."

I rolled my eyes and threw my bag under the first free desk I could find. "Believe me, I was tempted, but the old man would have had a cow."

"Parents these days, they have no idea what's best for their children."

"Tell me about it."

I collapsed into my chair and immediately spread myself out over the desk top. I found a comfortable position nestled into the crook of my elbow but couldn't relax completely since I got the feeling someone was trying to blow my head up. Getting sort of sick of the animosity, I lifted my eyes and glanced to the side.

"What do you want, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo glared at me, his scowl set firmly in place. Had I actually thought that things would change since we'd skipped through a fantasy world together over summer break?

"That's Rukia's seat," Ichigo told me, oh-so-full of tact.

"Oh, does she want it?" I asked, popping up and feigning concern. "Wait, she's in a completely different realm, isn't she? Huh. I don't think she'll be making the trek just for algebra, so this seat seems like fair game to me."

The V shape in Ichigo's brow deepened. "There are other empty seats, why can't you sit in one of them?"

"Why can't I sit here?"

"It's Rukia's seat!"

"But Rukia's not here to sit in it. Besides, I'm already here. It's not like I'm stealing her seat out of spite, it's just the first one I came to."

"You couldn't have walked five more steps to the back of the room?"

"Nope."

With the dispute settled, as far as I was concerned, I went right back to my slacking, successfully tuning out the murderous aura coming from my left. I knew Ichigo was in love with Rukia and everything, but he was turning just a little bit obsessive.

With full permission to drown out the teaching going on ahead of me, I let my mind wander. Since the subject had been brought up, I ended up thinking about if we ever would see Rukia again. It really did feel wrong to go on as if she'd never shown up in our lives at all - or, more accurately, as if all the trouble she'd brought with her hadn't pummeled what little normalcy we'd had to begin with. Were Ichigo and the others suddenly supposed to be regular kids again after all they'd been through?

As difficult as it was to imagine, we would all be better off leaving that ghost business behind us. Soul Reapers coming back into our lives would just mean that there would be more supernatural issues to deal with. It's not like the Shinigami would just stop by to visit, right? They had a job to do, and we weren't supposed to be a part of it. We were _supposed_ to be separated from one another.

I could feel the pout on my face as I stared at some random kid on the other side of the room (who noticed and kept shooting me weird glances, which I pretended not to be mildly amused by). Even though I wasn't Miss Humanitarian, reverting to my school girl without a cause identity didn't sound too appealing. Danger was a hassle, but at least it was exciting. Being a human again was like being demoted. Besides, some of those Shinigami characters weren't half bad. And not just in terms of looks, but as far as personalities went. I was one of them, distantly and unofficially. Part of me felt like I'd rather be around them than humans.

Or maybe I was speaking too soon.

"_Where are you hiding? Come on out here, Ichigo Kurosaki! You're up there and don't pretend you're not!_"

I, along with the rest of the class, totally disregarded the lesson and made a bee-line towards the window. I elbowed my way through the crowd with surprising vigor and managed to snag a front row seat.

"What?"

"Ichigo, you know that guy? He's all… hippie-ed out."

Unfortunately, Keigo's observation wasn't out of line. Even if Renji wasn't the love of my life anymore, seeing him decked out in a hideous ensemble of tie-dye and fringe was just a shame to mankind. He might not have been as sexy as Shuuhei, but you wouldn't even know Renji was good looking at all with the way he was dressed, and that was a damn disgrace.

"Oh, that's very retro," Sensei commented from amidst the gaggle, apparently not upset in the least that her lecture was being interrupted. "Kurosaki, is he any-"

She'd barely gotten out the word "relation" before Ichigo rushed out of the room. For whatever reason, I began to follow without a thought and with just as much urgency.

"Kame, where are you going? Are you related to that groovy boy, too?"

I faltered just before the threshold, only using that fraction of a second to slap together an excuse before I bolted.

"Ah, no," I babbled. "See, Ichigo paid that guy out there to distract you so that we could sneak out. We're kind of a thing. That other guy's just a ploy so don't mind him, okay? Bye!"

The room I'd left behind was stumped.

"Huh? Ichigo and Mikita are together?"

"They plan rendezvous to stay intimate?"

"How romantic!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

As we all know, I wasn't the fastest horse in the race. The excursion in the Soul Society might have helped build up my stamina, but I was still one of the worst runners, like, ever. By the time I trotted my way down to the gym field, there was a hollow blocking my path.

My first response was a totally undignified shriek of "kill it!". I wasn't sure how such a massive beast could pull off a surprise attack, but that guy did it. Luckily for me, Ichigo was there to spring into action. While he worked it, I got a hold on myself, zipping between the creature's legs and taking cover behind the bunch of bushes Renji's spiritual pressure was coming from.

When I made it past all the branches, I was met with quite the sight to see. It was a once in a lifetime thing I could only call "butt secks".

"Do you need help or something?"

Renji glanced up at me, his eyes already irate from the difficulty he seemed to be having removing himself from his gigai. When they landed on me, though, some of the sourness ebbed away to make room for surprise.

"Mikita? You go to school here, too?" Renji questioned. I nodded in response, but my eyes were glued to the gigai-Renji that was hanging lifelessly from the pelvis of Shinigami-Renji. It was like watching an insect shed its skin.

Renji noticed my gaze and was refueled with annoyance. "You wanna give me a hand with this?" he grunted, jerking his hips in an attempt to free himself from the prosthetic body. As much as I kind of just wanted to watch him struggle, I sighed and stepped forward to help in the heaving.

Call me crazy, but I half expected to feel some kind of _'zap'_ like the fairy-tales always preached about, but touching Renji had no more electric reaction than touching Ichigo or Chad. We must not have been soul mates. Because, of course, if there's no cosmic interference in love, it's not real love at all. You think people just make that stuff up?

"Thanks," the man muttered after he had stepped out of the dummy, pulling away and brushing his shihakushou off. Not really knowing what else to do, I got right to the point.

"So, what exactly are you doing here?" I asked, fiddling in my stance.

Renji didn't get the chance to answer before someone else beat him to the punch.

"He got demoted and has to patrol around Karakura."

I snickered as Ichigo walked over to join us, the hollow apparently exterminated, and crowed, "Ooooooh, burn!"

"I did _not_ get demoted," the fukutaichou (or was he?) seethed, his jaw grinding. "I was given the charge of Karakura Town because of my distinguished and trusted position as a vice-captain of the Gotei 13!"

"Yeah, whatever," Ichigo dismissed, effortlessly molding with his gigai and inadvertently showing Renji up. "Cut the crap already and get into your gigai. Don't just leave your body hanging around like that. Hurry up and put it on."

"I don't wanna go back in," Renji declared, crossing his arms and standing his ground. "I just got out of it!"

Ichigo wasn't in the mood to humor any fully-grown brats on the first day back to class.

"Now listen up," the strawberry asserted, getting all up in Renji's bubble. Renji seemed too shocked to pop the guy a good one right in the nose. "I don't want you coming around my school, you got that?"

"Yeah, but-"

"_You got that?_"

"Stop being such a jerk, Orange," I voiced, having enough of Ichigo's high-and-mighty attitude. Just because the kid got some fancy badge didn't make him the king of all-time. "Go back to class like a good boy and I'll make sure this turkey here stays out of your way."

My generous offer earned two slightly different reactions.

"Huh? You're gonna skipping class to baby-sit this guy?"

"Who the hell're ya calling a turkey?"

I disregarded both boys, bending down to swipe the hat off gigai-Renji's head and putting it on myself. It was a sure thing that the abominable fabric looked just a atrocious on me, but at least my swag could give it some credibility. Taking things a step farther, I wrestled the vest off gigai-Renji's buff frame and pulled it over my own back.

"Hey, stop stripping my gigai!" Renji protested with a flush. "You can't just take all my clothes off out here in the open!"

Uh-oh. Naughty thought a-brewin'.

"Really?" I made a show of fluttering my lashes. "So we should continue this somewhere private?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Tease," I muttered, studying the inanimate red-head passed out on the ground. Switching gears, I addressed the living, fuming counterpart. "Don't worry, I'm just making the load a little lighter for you. If you're not going to get back in there, you're going to carry it back to Urahara's."

"Good idea, Mikita," Ichigo concurred. The two of us wordlessly teamed up to both ignore and plot against the lieutenant. "You can take him out show him the ropes of the Human World. Make sure he doesn't embarrass me again, would you?"

"Hey, it's not like I want to be seen hanging around with such a loser either."

"You two…" the alien rumbled. Like I cared.

"Let's go, Gobbles," I ordered, making a careless motion towards the abandoned gigai. "Pick up your body and let's be on our way."

"Wait just a minute. Whoever said I-"

"See ya, Mikita. Thanks for taking care of this. Good luck."

"I'll probably need luck. And a good ole' slice of patience pie."

"Who d'you two think you-"

"Shut up," I snapped, not so much harshly as haphazardly, pointing a finger towards the space between Renji's eyes. He actually looked pretty adorable when he went all cross-eyed to try to follow the action, but I stayed on topic. "Now do as I say, pick up your gigai, and follow me back to Urahara's. We will then proceed with the 'Make Gobbles a Human' mission from there. Understand?"

Renji huffed, frowning firmly but still bending down to lift his body onto his back. "Fine, I'll go along with you for now. But what's with the nickname?"

"It just came to me," I admitted, watching with strange satisfaction as Renji followed my commands, grudging or not. The vice-captain narrowed his eyes at me for my lame explanation before following me off the school grounds. As we walked, I thought about what the scene would look like to an outsider: unconscious floating body following a school-girl wearing a 70's era man's vest and bucket hat. The whole town would think they'd gone insane and started seeing things.

"_Where_ did it come from?" Renji pressed a little while later once we'd made it onto the streets. "The 'turkey' thing?"

"Well, pineapple was the first choice, obviously," I said, "but I figured that one must be overdone. I had to be original, so turkey was the next choice. You really do look like one, you know."

"How so?" Renji bit out, apparently _not_ knowing.

"Please, have you ever looked in a mirror? Just imagine those spikes on the back of your head as a bunch of tail feathers. I mean, when you pair it with that stupid look you always have on it's almost impossible to tell the difference between you and a real bird. You even have the autumn-like color palate thing going on. You, my friend, are a human turkey if I ever saw one."

I decided that, after a period of bird chirping followed my explanation, Renji was as lost as Dory and Marlin in the open ocean. There was no doubt that he'd caught onto the popular belief that I was clinically insane, but that was fine. Who had more power over others than a psycho?

* * *

"Oi, Urahara. I found some gigolo outside of school. Can we keep him?"

Renji, after depositing his gigai in the corner of the candy store, quirked his brow.

"What's a gigolo?" he inquired. For both of our sakes, I let the question go unanswered. It was best to keep him ignorant for a while, at least until he got used to this cruel, cruel world.

"Oh, Kita-Chan," Urahara called with surprise, waltzing into the main room to join us younglings. "I see you found our newest house guest."

"Huh?" our newest house guest said dumbly, his gaze pin-balling between me and Urahara. "You live here, Mikita?"

I shrugged. "Looks like it."

Since Renji had been preoccupied with dragging his gigai around town, it had been left up to me to carry the shopping bags we'd picked up after a short visit to the nearest clothing boutique. I wasn't made of money, so I'd only been able to afford picking up one decent outfit for the guy, but it was money well spent. (And money that someone would absolutely be reimbursing me for). I was glad to make the trip brief, though; it was hard to enjoy shopping when the guy you were buying for was invisible to everyone else and wouldn't quit yapping in your ear. The store clerk must have thought I was right kooky when I strolled in at eleven in the morning in my own questionable attire, had a quiet screaming match with myself over the importance of pattern coordination, and purchased a man's ensemble of dress. I just had to be thankful that he didn't decide to take out the trash and see Renji's inanimate gigai-body slumped over behind the dumpster.

I'd tossed the bag of clothes into the corner once we entered the store and ended up staring at them while I spaced out. When I blinked and came to, I realized I'd somehow captured Renji's attention. I didn't like the way he was looking at me.

"Stop staring or I'll kick you," I warned.

He didn't stop staring. I kicked him.

Renji let out a wimpy roar, but even that was a total over-reaction considering I gave him a heads-up and barely put any effort into the kick to begin with. The guy even had the audacity to glare at me while he bent down to rub his shin. "What the hell was that for?"

"Don't try to blame it on me," I said matter-of-factly, side-stepping the Shinigami and stalking my way towards the housing half of the building. "It was your own fault."

Trusting that Renji would take care of his body and bags (because how much would it suck if we actually got a customer only to traumatize them by leaving a carcass just inside the entrance?) I shlumped through hallways and into the dining area, where Urahara was predictably seated.

"You should really be more hospitable, Kita-Chan," Urahara preached as soon as I'd cleared the threshold. "Abarai-Kun could use your help while adjusting to this world."

Not buying it, I rolled my eyes. "If you want me to welcome the guy into our home with open arms, you have to do something for me, first." I delivered the ultimatum.

"For you or _to_ you?"

I was truly gob smacked. Had the old slug really just said that to me? I didn't appreciate the lechery. Where was Renji when you needed him to play the chivalric gentleman?

"…I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," I said through an exhaled, pulling myself together and willing away the heebie-jeebies. "What I want is enough cash to buy the guy a new, in-this-decade wardrobe so he doesn't completely embarrass me."

"Of course," Urahara settled easily. The instantaneous agreement threw me off. "I can't have your social status be humiliated, can I?"

"Uh, sure," I responded. Was he serious or sarcastic? It was hard to tell.

"But that can wait until the weekend," Urahara continued. "Today, since you decided to leave class so early, I've come to the conclusion that you need to get something productive done."

There were many different takes on what sort of activities could be considered productive. I didn't think my idea of stealing the shop keeper's wallet and hitting the mall was one of Urahara's.

Sure enough, Urahara's judgment was, "I would like you to train today."

Train? Train what?

"Since we currently have a lieutenant in our residence," Urahara explained, "I believe it would be prudent of you to take advantage of his skills and build up your own strength with some sparring."

Oh, shucks. He was talking about sweating. I hated sweating.

"Ergh, no. Nope. I don't agree with that plan, actually," I rebutted. Who in their right mind would consider fighting to be productive? Make love, not war.

(Make lots and lots and lots of ephemeral love with a fukutaichou. Not war.)

"Well, what do you think, Abarai-Kun?" Urahara questioned, looking to something over my shoulder. I craned my neck and watched as the Reaper in question huffed and puffed his way into the room, having apparently dropped off his baggage in whatever room he was given to reside.

"Huh?" Renji grunted out, ever the intellectual. "I heard something about training, right? I guess I wouldn't mind."

Yes, of course he wouldn't. He was a smelly man who didn't mind bodily liquids dripping out from under his arms and releasing detestable odors.

"Wonderful!" the landlord gushed, looking like a few Girls Gone Wild hopefuls had walked in to audition for him. "You and Kita-Chan can fool around for a bit down there before dinner time."

I would have made some sort of wise-crack over his wording had I not been so determined to convince him I wouldn't go along with his schemes.

"I never said I was complying," came my objection.

"Well, I don't see anything wrong with the way Abarai-Kun was dressed when he left this morning," Urahara said thoughtfully, propping his chin up with a closed fan. "I suppose if you won't train, I won't be inclined to fund his make-over."

Wasn't I suppose to be the one hustling _him_? When did Urahara gain the upper hand? When did he get so shifty?

Realizing my position, I weighed my options. Fight and hang off the arm of a handsome new kid or lay around and be forced to befriend the town freak show? Which was the worst of two evils?

"…Fine. I'll go play with dangerous weapons. But I won't like it."

I ignored Urahara's maniacal beam and feigned more interest in Renji's smirk.

"So you'll be my opponent, huh?" Renji stated in question form. "Let's hope you give me more trouble than ya did the last time I was here in the Human World. You must be as good as Ichigo if you fought off Ichimaru, so let's see if you can knock me down."

"…"

I should have picked becoming an outcast. Was it too late to change my answer?

* * *

"Stop dodgin'," Renji growled at me. My run-away-as-fast-as-you-can battle tactic apparently wasn't working for him. "Just bring out your damn zanpakutou so we can get started!"

Did he think I was crazy? Releasing Taimozou would only make Renji attack me even harder! No one would cut down an unarmed woman unless they were the scummiest slugs on Earth. To be weaponless was to be laceration-less.

"Not happening," I voiced, holding my ground in a defensive stance.

"Why the hell not?"

"See, the others might have embellished a little with the story of my show-down with that Gin guy," I admitted in one breath, too distressed to put up with more fibs.

Renji's face screwed up. "Whadd'ya mean by that?"

"Well…"

No, what was I doing? I couldn't just admit that I sucked. I had to give fighting a shot. Maybe Renji would be so blinded by Taimozou's ability that I'd get a good hit in and wrap things up quickly.

And if that failed, I'd just have to flash him. You know, it was the fool-proof distraction against all men old enough to appreciate a woman's assets.

"Okay," I breathed, flash-stepping away from Renji and snatching Taimozou up from the rock where I'd abandoned him. (We were, of course, sparring in the underground lair thingy). I held the sword like an overgrown wand before me and said the magic words. "Challenge, Taimozou!"

Renji curled his lip at Tai's unimpressive, fencing-bladed shikai form. "That's it? That thing defeated Ichimaru?"

"Not quite," I leered, putting on a show of bravado. Maybe if I acted tough, Renji would believe it enough to convince me. What goes around comes around, right? "Strike to kill, Shinsou!"

The slightly more bad-ass blade extended to near perfection as directed. Renji blocked Taimozou-Shinsou just fine, but it was pretty apparent that he had never seen Ichimaru's shikai first-hand and didn't recognize the fantastic power behind my Soul Slayer.

"I don't get it," the vice-captain said, parrying my elongated sword with an unreleased Zabimaru. "Why did you release twice with two different names?"

I huffed, but it was mostly due to how heavy that stupid hunk of metal was than any real indignation. "I guess I'll have to show you something else to get the point across." All too eager to get rid of the overly bulky Shinsou-Taimozou, I hurried to order, "Howl, Zabimaru!"

If I'd been in my right mind, I would have remembered how heavy that damn monkey stick was. When I transformed Taimozou into Zabimaru, the weight was too much for me and Taimozou-Zabimaru dropped straight to the dirt, sending up a cloud that blocked Renji's reaction from my view. Apparently the adrenaline from my real deal fight with Ichimaru had given my mother-lifting-a-car kind of strength, but out of the face of danger I was just a plain girl.

Besides the humiliation, there was one other thing that knocked me down a few notches in morale. "Ow, my eye!"

It was just my luck, really. When playing fisty-cuffs with a guy with five times my muscle mass, the first way I get hurt is when a speck of dirt flies into my eyeball. Yep, that was my life.

"What's wrong?" I heard Renji holler from the other side of the supernova. What a sweet guy, that one.

"Oh, not much. I'm just going blind here, you dill-hole!"

Well, no one ever said that I was a sweet girl.

Even if I couldn't see him, I was sure the lieutenant was scowling (because he scowled almost as much as Ichigo, didn't he?). I couldn't keep my eyes open for more than a second, continually blinking like a hyperactive hummingbird and having no control over the tears falling down my face. If I wasn't in so much pain I might have felt stupid for crying in front of my sexy opponent.

"Wow," Renji muttered, his voice a deadpan that I could easily visualize mirrored onto his expression. I assumed he was right in front of me. "I've never had an opponent beat themselves up before."

"Shut up," I grumbled. I managed to wedge my knuckle under my eyelid and tried to coax out the earthy grains. I knew it was unsanitary but really, I didn't care to take necessary precaution. It worked either way.

I probably looked like some kind of banshee, since the whites of my eyes would have been bright red and my irises Caribbean Blue, but at least that made me more intimidating, right? Renji did seem uncomfortable while he scratched his neck and asked if I was alright.

"Aw, Red, you do care," I smiled, using my sleeve to rub the residual moisture off my cheeks. Breathing a sigh, I bent down to grab Taimozou, who I'd dropped in all the excitement. That much was easily accomplished since Taimouzo-Zabimaru had constricted and was no longer that unhinged, flailing mess.

"Why does your zanpakutou look like Zabimaru?" Renji asked, his expression screwed up in confusion. "And you even released him the same way I do."

"My zanpakutou, Taimozou, can steal another zanpakutou's spirit energy and mimic their abilities," I spoke blasely. My eyes were still stinging, so I wasn't much into elaborating. "As long as he makes physical contact with another blade he can acquire their powers if I release him under the command of that Soul Slayer."

Renji was disproportionately engrossed in my commentary. "So even when you fight with someone, you have to hear them release their shikai to be able to activate their powers for yourself?"

"Mm... actually, I have no idea," I said, tilting my head to the side and thinking about it. Renji made a good point. I didn't think he'd be so quick on the uptake. "Do you remember back when you came to get Rukia and I stole Zabimaru from you?" Renji nodded. "I guess Taimozou can analyze reiatsu for himself and get information from it. That must be how I knew Zabimaru's name and that you two hadn't reached bankai at the time. Taimozou was able to sense the strength of your bond or something like that. If he can do those sorts of things it seems pretty likely that he could delve even deeper and get a hold of release commands, doesn't it?"

Renji and I both let the possibility process. When I actually stopped and thought about it in depth, Taimozou was pretty freakin' awesome! Maybe I had taken him for granted by not developing our connection more.

'_**About time you realized that**_,' the big lug himself droned. '_**My potential is wasted on your underachieving idiocy**_.'

Despite the insult, I might have found it in me to apologize to Taimozou if Renji hadn't claimed my attention.

"That's great," the vice-captain cheered, his tone contradiction his smirk. "You must be able to use tons of different zanpakutou, then. Bring out Ichigo's. I wanna fight against that."

"No can do," I babbled, stepping back when Renji got into his bring-it-on stance. "I don't know anything about Ichigo's sword."

"Huh?" Renji said eloquently, falling out of his stance and putting pressure in his brow. "You've never fought against Ichigo? But aren't you friends?"

"Yeah, here on Earth, buds only try to kill each other when their weapons are X-Boxes," I stated dryly. I'd meant the fighting game fad that everyone and their grandma was in on, but a sudden image of kids throwing X-Boxes at each other had me wearing Renji's previous smirk. He got the wrong message and scowled.

"What zanpakutou can you handle, then," Renji asked sharply. I shrugged on impulse before I even gave the question any thought, then paused to actually do some thinking.

"Well, Zabimaru, obviously. Then there's Ichimaru's Shinsou, and Urahara's Benihime," I listed, my eyes on the sky-ceiling. I bit my lip when I realized that was pretty much it. There had to be someone I was forgetting. I really only knew three others' powers?

Luckily, Renji was already interested. "Okay," he settled, getting back into a combat posture. "Get Urahara's zanpakutou out."

I agreed with a nod, holding out the Zabimaru-ized Taimozou and opening my mouth, readying the command.

…Until I realized I had no idea what Benihime's release command was.

"What're ya waitin' for?" Renji demanded. Apparently his grammar suffered when he was upset. "We don't got all day."

"Uhm…"

I wondered what the best way to break the news would be. Admitting that I didn't remember Benihime's release would be too lame. It wasn't like the anyone could really blame me for forgetting, though: the last time I'd seen the sword being used had been almost literally forever ago.

"Ya don't know how t'do it, do ya?"

"No," I protested vehemently, pretending to be appalled by the accusation. "I mean, yes. I know how to. Just not right now at this very moment."

I let Renji's grumbles and complaints fall to deaf ears as I racked my brain for that stupid command. What the hell was it? I knew Benihime did all this freaky stuff with blood, so maybe it had something to do with that? I couldn't even say it was on the tip of my tongue; I honestly had no idea at all. You might as well have asked me to list the presidents of the United States.

'_You got anything, Tai?_' I asked my blade. Telepathically, basically, since we were that cool.

'_**My job is finding those things out. Yours is remembering them. I did my part**_. _**You, on the other hand, have never managed to pull your own weight for as long as we've known each other. I can't image what sort of sins I committed in my past lives to have ended up with you in this one.**_'

Whatever. Like I really wanted his help anyway. Freakin' Hindu.

"Just use Zabimaru, then," Renji shouted over, his irritation evident. I wasn't exactly chipper myself. I didn't want to get down and dirty with Renji to begin with (not while our clothes were on and we were more focused on inflicting pain than pleasure, anyway) so all of the complications popping up were worse than zits.

"That's not possible," I announced, jiggling Taimozou-Zabimaru for emphasis. "I can't even hold Zabimaru when he's completely released as that weird fishing line of death thing. There's no way I can fight with him."

Renji narrowed his eyes. "Why can't ya hold him?"

I raised a brow. "Okay, you may not have noticed, but your arms are pretty much seven times the size of mine." To prove the point, I pulled up my sleeve and flexed my marble-sized bicep. Renji took note of the difference but didn't seem to have any sympathy.

"You have to work out more."

Yeah, because I'm the type of girl to bust my ass until I looked like a female body builder for the sake of holding a sword. Why couldn't these people understand that I had zero interest in becoming the next Xena: Warrior Princess?

"You really don't like exerting yourself much, do ya?" Renji concluded brilliantly, catching onto my attitude towards training at long last.

"It's no worse than bowling. Only I don't hate bowling."

Renji didn't say anything for a while. He just stood there glaring at me, and I glared back. It eventually got old for Renji, so he offered an alternative. "Does your zanpakutou have any tricks of its own besides the imitation thing?"

"Nope."

With a huff of frustration, Renji, for the ump-teenth time, sunk into his battle pose. "That other one - Ichimaru's - then, since you've got an excuse for everything else."

He was right, I had no excuse to get out of using Shinsou. Sure, that thing was heavy too, but not so heavy that I was utterly hopeless.

I had to fight. And I was going to die.

* * *

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow-"

"Would ya shut up, Kame? If it hurts so much then just stop eatin'!"

"That would mean starving, Jinta. You don't really want me to starve, do you?"

"I don't care what ya do as long as it ain't yappin'."

"Stupid brat. How about I bring you down to the basement and beat you up. Then you'll know how this feels!"

"Alright, children," Urahara broke up the bickering. "Why don't you two go after Mr. Freeloader and bring him his second helping? I would hate for him to go hungry just because he was too delicate to ask for seconds."

The mention of the person in question made Jinta and I forget about our feud and harmonize our snickering. It turned out that Renji was actually a sensitive guy; he'd been trepid enough to refuse a decent amount of food and flee the dinner table after a few teases about him mooching hit below the belt. It was cute that he had a soft side, but he really wouldn't survive in the eclectic house of Urahara if he couldn't take a joke.

"Sure," I agreed, finishing off my fill before loading up another dish to feed Renji. Even if Renji had been severely holding back during our scuffle, it didn't help much when I was a hazard to myself. I made it out with my life, but I still had to move at a grandma's pace when I stood up and hobbled out of the room. Jinta followed me, carrying a side dish and beverage.

"So you fought him, huh?" the kid punctured as we made for Renji's room. "Was he any good?"

"Better than me," I said.

"That's ain't sayin' much. Anyone with the will to live is better than you."

"Give me a break," I moaned, throwing my head back. Why was everyone ganging up on me about that sort of stuff? They'd never cared before, and the sudden criticism was annoying.

Jinta opened his mouth, preparing for another assault of words, but I decided I'd taken too many beatings for one day and lunged for Renji's bedroom.

"Knock, knock," I called, using my foot to slap open the door. Luckily for me, the Reaper had been in the middle of changing and was bare from the waist up.

"Haven't ya ever heard of knockin'?" Renji all but squealed, grabbing a lounging robe (one covered in pink flowers, disturbingly enough) and stuffing his arms into the sleeves. I didn't see what they big deal was; it wasn't like a guy going around shirtless was any scandal, and Renji'd already graced me with his naked chest on more than one occasion, but I brushed it off as a symptom of surprise from my arrival.

"I did knock," I corrected in a purr, stepping into the room without shame, "…with my words. You could have told me you were indecent."

"You didn't exactly give me the chance," Renji hissed, securing his robe's belt in a knot and sending me a hard look.

"That glare won't do much," Jinta butted in, entering the room himself and plopping his offerings down by the futon. "Kame's self-destructive, so she's used to being a loser and getting dirty looks."

Jinta probably meant to insult me, but I didn't offer any objection to defend myself. He was right. I didn't care what people thought about me, good or (more often) bad. I preferred to be on my own since company tended to get on my nerves.

Jinta, however, was apparently looking forward to picking a fight. When I didn't challenge his jab he shifted his weight and send me a glare of his own. The sight was startling.

Jinta and Renji were standing side-by-side, locked in congruent poses and wearing congruent faces and directing a congruent amount of hostility towards me. The similarities jumped out at me like Mexican beans: the red hair, the skin tone, the beady brown eyes. Was there any way they could be related? Siblings, cousins, or…

An illegitimate love child?

Jinta scoffed and announced his leaves before stomping out of the room. Maybe I'd been staring for too long.

"Don't forget, Freeloader," the little bastard announced on his way out, "you start earning your keep tomorrow, bright and early."

The door snapped shut and Jinta was gone. The feeling of the room changed somehow, and when I focused on Renji again I noticed that he'd cooled down considerably.

"I guess it's only fair that I work for my food," Renji said. "Is Urahara accepting any more workers?"

My lips twitched, but I really wanted to lean over and slap my knee. "You wanna fill out an application? What are you going to put on your resume: dumb-ass?" Renji didn't acknowledge my question with anything more than a look, so I went on, all jokes aside. "This isn't exactly a formal establishment. The only workers Urahara has are all the bums he takes in and feeds for labor. When you were given this room, you were already 'hired'. You're expected to help out and be Urahara's bitch, basically. And seeing as you're the newest 'employee', the rest of us have senior privileges over you too, got it?"

Renji pouted a manly pout. "That means you're all gonna boss me around, doesn't it?"

"Damned straight." I smirked. "At least until you settle in and it stops being as fun. But as of right now, you're back to being a rookie."

"Great."

"And since I have seniority over you, my first demand is that you get on your knees, right now."

"What?"

"I want to braid your hair."

Jeez, what did he think I was talking about? Dirty mind on that boy.

Presumably consoled with the fact that I wasn't forcing him to do anything naughty, Renji heeded my request without much of a fuss, allowing me to creep up behind him and pull the tie out of his hair. It was longer than I had expected it to be, cascading down past his shoulder blades. It just wasn't fair. How could a boy - a muck-monster of a boy that didn't spend extra time or cash taking care of his beauty - have better hair than me?

I took my time grooming Renji, running my fingers through his irksomely silky locks and urging him to eat while I worked my magic. Things were quiet that way for a while until Renji got curious.

"What's your story anyway," he asked. His tone, feeding off the atmosphere, was softer than usual. "Where'd ya come from and how'd ya end up here?"

I let out a silent groan as I separate Renji's locks into three sections. "Eck, not that again. It's a long story. Ask Ichigo the next time you see him."

"Uh, okay."

Neither of us offered anything else for another second until, once again, Renji proved that he had some random ADD symptoms that kept him from enjoying tranquility.

"So are you guys good friends, then? You and Ichigo and the others?"

"Not really," I admitted. It seemed too weird to call them my friends. "More like companions."

"What's the difference?"

My jaw locked, almost like my body was reacting before my head in recognizing a danger zone. I knew Renji wouldn't let the subject drop without some kind of answer, so I had to give him the elementary school version.

"I guess it means that I don't consider myself that close to them," I said, concentrating on my braiding. "They were all willing to get themselves killed to save Rukia, like real friends would, but I'm just not that into any one of them."

My explanation sounded stupid. I wished Renji had been more Human World savvy so that I could have just said I was a Slytherin and be done with it.

Sure, I might have called Orihime my friend before, but that was when we were just regular kids separated from supernatural drama. It hadn't mean as much back then when our "bond" didn't mean fighting to the death; saying it then was a meaningless way to keep her happy, but saying it now meant she could expect me to leap over the flames of Hell for her. The day I took a bullet for someone like Ichigo was the day Aizen came to earth and tried to destroy Karakura Town.

I made it to the end of the plait just in time to freeze when a realization struck me. I _had_ taken a bullet for Ichigo, back when Byakuya and Renji had shown up for Rukia and I'd been sliced down. That whole night had put me on an emotional rampage, in fact. And I _had_ gone to the Soul Society to help out, even if I wasn't so hands-on, gritty-gritty about it.

"So you mean if one of them was in danger right in front of you, you would just run away and save yourself?" Renji piped, sounding skeptical.

"I don't know."

Shisus, maybe they were my friends. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to turn my back if one of them were about to die. Hadn't I already proved that I couldn't turn my back if one of them were about to die?

Those dorks really were my friends. Shit.

"I don't believe you," Renji proclaimed smugly, so sure of himself. "You've had friends before, right?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to them?"

"They died."

"Don't be a smart ass," Renji reprimanded.

"I'm not," I said, smiling tartly. I tied off the end of Renji's plait and sat back, tapping my thighs to keep my hands busy. "When I first came to the World of the Living, I went to elementary school and made friends with the other kids. But as time went on and they all grew up, I didn't. Our maturity rates were so different that I had to stop going to school all together so that no one would notice I didn't seem to be getting any older. I had to be confined to the store so no one who would remember me would see me. By the time I decided to start up classes again just for the sake of getting out of the house, it was Ichigo and the gang's generation. The people I had gotten to know as a kid were already dead or close to it."

Another period of silence passed between us that made me thoroughly uncomfortable. My blood pressure shot up; I was kicking myself from all over for blabbing too much. Why had I shared something like that with a fella I barely knew? Even the people who knew me the best knew next to nothing about me. That was the way it'd always been.

I was intolerably restless, so I pulled myself to my feet, ignoring the shots of pain, and started for the door. The flight response won out again.

"Well, I'm depressed," I stated, trying not to make it obvious that I was itching to use a flash-step rather than move the normal, slow way. "I'm gonna go to bed before you make me cry or something."

"Wait, I-"

"Night!"

And that was it.

* * *

I'd hoped I wouldn't have to face Renji until a good night's sleep could convince me our conversation had been a dream, but my influence over fate was a little on the loose side.

"Hey, Mikita. Get up! Somethin's goin' on."

I grumbled something unintelligible, grimacing as I rolled over and swatted at the hand shaking my shoulder. The person was persistent, though, and kept pushing on my arm until I opened my eyes.

"What the hell do you want?" I spat, unfolding myself and working on getting my eyes opened. When that much was accomplished, I saw Renji doubled over on the side of my bed, out of his gigai and way too wide awake.

"My pager went off a little while ago," he told me. "There's something weird out there, can't you feel it?"

"No," I grunted, collapsing onto my mattress and re-cuddling into my blankets. "I don't feel anything before the sun comes up."

"Mikita," Renji insisted, pulling on my arm again. He could tug at my limbs all he wanted as long as my face was still plastered to the pillow. "We have to go check it out."

"_You_ have to go check it out," I corrected him. "That's your job, not mine. So go away."

"You're not even interested?" Renji probed, clearly not following my logic.

"Wait, you're right," I huffed, burying myself deeper into bed. "Just let me changed into my ninja outfit real quick."

"Huh?"

"That means go away."

Renji realized I was jerking him but refused to back down. He was relentless, that one.

"But it could be something big," he pressed.

"I already know what it is. It's the Russians."

"What?"

"Oh my God, just go away!"

"Someone could be in trouble," came Renji's last resort. "I don't recognize whatever this thing is so it could be dangerous. I might need help against it."

"I'm not that great of a fighter, you know," I grumbled into my pillow. I inwardly wished the earth would just swallow me whole. "Besides, haven't we been over this? I don't care. Let nature take its course. Survival of the fittest."

I didn't really know what happened after that, but it was obvious Renji must have gotten the message that I wasn't getting out of bed. It took me a little longer to fall back asleep than I would have liked due to a twinge of guilt nipping in my gut, but I was able to get over it and fall back into my dream world. My sleep, however, was light and unrestful.

I couldn't help hoping that the situation outside wasn't anything too severe and that no one would get hurt. I'd kill Renji if he let someone die.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**In the spirit of Renji's attire, there are so many **_**That 70's Show**_** quotes and references in this chapter that it might as well be called **_**That 70's Chapter**_**. There are eleven of them. Did you get them all? Go ahead and try. It's like **_**Where's Waldo? **_**with **_**Bleach**_**, **_**That 70's Show**_**, and no Waldo. If you're looking for something to do to further avoid responsibilities and such, I bequeath to you this challenge~**


	18. Chapter 18

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

I was convinced that I was on drugs. Unwillingly, of course, but some heavy duty stuff all the same. Personally, I suspected Urahara had been slipping one of his freaky inventions into my coffee every morning so that I couldn't develop the brilliance to overthrow him. (Because we all know if he wasn't deliberately confusing my system I would definitely have the world taken over). But whatever the cause, the fact remained that my loopy brain waves had made me envision two imaginary beings named Orihime and Renji.

I knew I wasn't the most grounded hog in the hole but I didn't think I was jumping to hasty conclusions. I mean, of course when Renji wasn't around in the morning I simply assumed he was held up with whatever hocus pocus he had tried to drag me into the night before. The thing that got my brain gears turning was when I met up with the usual gaggle of gals before class and asked them where Orihime was.

They'd had no idea who I was talking about. Where I came from, people just didn't go and forget about their best friend's existence overnight unless there was something freaky going on.

Instead of panicking, I played it cool. It's not like Tatsuki and the others could have given me any answers anyway, so I just laughed it off and told them I must have dreamed about some chick named Orihime who kept her brain in her boobs. As far as they knew, Orihime wasn't anything but a figure of my imagination. And maybe she wasn't. What if I really had imagined her? Maybe life itself was nothing but a dream. Who knew, really?

I used that theory as my explanation and decided to continue on normally, at least until I could get back to the store and ask Urahara for the real meat of the story.

Ichigo sort of ruined things for me as usual, though. I was actually pretty glad when he and his gang strolled into the classroom (he was real, at least, and so was the Renji standing behind him in Reaper form) but that relief only lasted until he went and opened his mouth.

"Hey, Tatsuki," Ichigo greeted, leaving the group of girls behind her – which included me – out. "Have you seen Orihime?"

"You, too?" Tatsuki crossed her arms. "Who's this girl you and Mikita are talking about? Is she a new student or something?"

Ichigo and his posse weren't smooth enough to hide their shock but they did manage to pull themselves together before anyone got too suspicious. During the break they recruited me for a Girl Scout style circle of friendship outside, where they tossed around real-life ghost stories about the night before to try to make sense of the MIA Orihime. For the most part I stayed out of it and tried to piece the puzzle together myself with the snippets I picked up from the conversation: I ended up with a mental picture of the gates to Hell popping up and slurping up Orihime, but that was a little too outlandish for me to buy into without viable proof.

Somehow, while I was formulating, the majority reached the conclusion that snooping around Orihime's apartment for more clues was a smart move. I wasn't the only one not in fine fettle over that plan of action.

"Hey, wait," Renji protested, standing up with the rest of the group (minus me) but keeping his feet firmly glued to the ground. "You mean right now? I thought you guys were supposed to be in class."

Ha. Class. Funny.

"Oh, lighten up," Ichigo scolded. He, Chad and Uryuu tried to act all thug-like as they stalked away, their shoulders stiff and arms sort of jutting away from their bodies as if they had too much machismo to handle. "This is more important than school."

They were so determined that they didn't even noticed my complete lack of presence in the entire exchange. Fine by me. I was more than happy to slip under the radar.

"Mikita, aren't you going with them?"

That boy really needed to learn how to whisper. Damn you, Abarai. I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you and your loud, stupid dog breath.

Renji's question seemed to remind the retreating trio that I was, in fact, there, and they paused to give me the chance to play.

"Mikita, you aren't coming?" Ichigo questioned with surprise. Why was he surprised?

"Well, I don't see what me being there would really do," I said, putting effort into sounding rational rather than neutral. "I mean, I wasn't there last night and barely even know what's going on. You guys should do the hands-on work while I hang out here and see if anything new pops up."

"She has a point," Renji agreed, earning him a strange look from me. "Whoever kidnapped Orihime could start going after your other friends."

Uryuu frowned. "It's possible, I suppose, but not very likely. Why weren't you with us when Orihime was taken anyway, Kame?"

I blinked. There was no way to sugar-coat that one, really. "I was sleeping."

"You could have woken up."

"But I didn't."

Uryuu didn't like my answer. "Orihime is your friend. Are you telling me that you chose to stay in bed and not save her life?"

"Slow your roll," I defended, refraining from snapping to try to avoid a fight. "It's not like I knew Orihime was in trouble. I thought it was just a stupid hollow."

"You should have checked it out anyway," Uryuu shot back. "It's your duty as a resident Soul Reaper to look into any spiritual happenings in Karakura Town."

My level of concern over not starting a fight dropped significantly. I straighten up where I sat, narrowing my stare. "Please, there are, like, ten other people in this town who can fight evil. What's the point of all of us jumping in all the time?"

Honestly, they needed to make some kind of schedule. Mondays for Ichigo, Tuesdays for Uryuu, Wednesdays for Chad, and Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday for Renji since it was technically his job and all. It'd be better than the free for all they had going on.

Uryuu wasn't one to be swayed by logic. "Sometimes the situation calls for more than one person. Look at what happened to Orihime! Not even Chad, Ichigo, Renji and myself combined managed to rescue her."

"Well, maybe you guys just suck."

"Maybe you should have thought about someone other than yourself for once and come to help."

I might have snapped the jerk's glasses in half with my foot if Ichigo hadn't stepped and played the leader.

"That's enough," he barked before turning on his heel and moving for the exit. "If Kame wants to stay then just leave her behind. All this arguing is only holding us back. Orihime's in trouble and those of us that care should go after her as soon as possible."

Ouch. Indirect burn.

I jutted out my lip and glanced to the side, noting that Renji was still rooted while Ichigo and his group disappeared. Once they were gone I waited a beat before hauling myself to my feet, swinging my bag over my shoulder, and beginning to trek in the opposite direction the boys had gone.

"Where are you going now?" Renji asked, his tone not betraying his lack of enthusiasm for high school drama. I kept up my pace without being bothered to look back.

"Home," I responded easily. "I've already missed attendance so there's really no point in going back to class. I have some business to take care of anyway."

"What about your friends?"

"They're big kids, they can take care of themselves."

"Are you serious?"

"I never lie."

* * *

When I strolled into Urahara's store, I was alone. I vaguely wondered why I - let alone Renji - bothered going to school at all since it wasn't like we needed the education for future careers.

"Kame-Sama, you're home early," Tessai acknowledged when I ran into him during my search for the Sea Goat. As in, literally ran into him.

I stood on my tippy-toes, trying to angle myself to see beyond Tessai's massive form. "Yeah. Have you seen Urahara around?"

"Ah, uh, hm," Tessai began. The words, if you could call them that, were drawn out and spoken with an odd pitch, making it clear he was hiding something. "The boss is… busy."

"Busy in the bathroom of busy with one of his personal schemes?"

Tessai fidgeted, but not visibly. It was more of a glitch in his aura. Because, you know, I can see auras.

"I… cannot say," the kidou master claimed.

Masturbation or Machiavellian tactics? I took a moment to decide which Urahara was tied up with at the moment.

"Okay, I'll head down to the training room, then."

"Why would you want to do that, Kame-Sama?" Tessai blubbered, hastening to step to the side to block my path. Rather than fight to get passed him, I took a step back and sent him a calculating stare.

"You know," I started off, tilting my head to the side in faux thought. "You're pretty awesome with kidou, right, Tessai? In fact, it'd probably be easy for you to blow a lax dude like Urahara into a million pieces with your funky magic. Have you ever thought about taking him on? Think about it: no more taking orders, no more slaving, and everything would be yours. Doesn't that sound nifty?"

"Please refrain from organizing a staff rebellion in my absense, Kita-Chan," the fiend in question requested, clunking his way over on those unnecessary geta he was always wearing. "I'm beginning to think you don't like me."

I shrugged, watching with a raised brow as Tessai leaped aside and bowed down to Urahara like the guy was the sultan. How could a girl like me get that kind of man training?

Urahara adjusted his bucket hat, lifting it a tad to get a better look at me. "Skipping class again, Kita-Chan? What is it this time?"

"Oh, nothing too major," I relayed. "I just found out that Orihime was sucked into the Gates of Hell. Know anything about it?"

You'd think Urahara's head was on fire with the way his was fan was thrashing around. "What makes you think I would know anything about it?"

I picked at my finger nails. "Well, you see, I figured that if she was sucked into Hell she'd have to pop out in the core of all things evil, so I came to the shop as soon as possible."

"Eh-heh," Urahara laughed dryly. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Kita-Chan. It's also quite the accusation. Why would I want to kidnap your friend Orihime?"

The prospect of rape came to mind, but I didn't want to throw that one out there too early in the game. "I know you too well by now, Old Man. Your favorite hobby has become torturing Ichigo and meddling in his life at every available opportunity."

"It's not torture," Urahara declared. "It's training!"

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes, maneuvering my way around both men and poking my head into the nearest room for a look around. "Where is she?"

"I'm afraid I can't share that information with you, Mikita."

I paused, closing the door I had slid open to stare at Urahara from over my shoulder. "But she's safe though, right? This is only one of your bizarre-o learning experiences."

As much as I wanted to believe Urahara wouldn't hurt anyone, he'd been known to put innocent people in danger's way for the "greater cause". He tried to be a good guy, but he was no saint.

Urahara sobered up, most likely knowing what was going through my head. "Inoue-San isn't in any danger," the shop keeper clarified, clip-clopping forward to clap a hand on my shoulder. I looked down at the appendage with a wary quirk of the brow. "Mikita…" My focus was redirected to the intense green-gray eyes less than half a meter from mine. "Mikita, why didn't you go with the others to find Inoue-San?"

Urahara had asked the question genuinely, without any jest, but I couldn't help but want to scoff.

"Because I already knew she was here. Duh."

Urahara maintained eye contact with me, digging through my stare for some sort of clue. I kept a straight face and let him do it but scowled all the while.

Despite my compliance, Urahara didn't seem to find what he was looking for. He stepped back and lowered his head so that his expression was cast into shadow.

"You should have gone with the others, Kita-Chan," Urahara told me, "but I suppose it might be my fault as well. I should have realized that you, at least, would have seen through one of my tests."

Apparently even when I solved the mystery with only the bare basic of clues I still failed. That was why I should just stay out of things.

"Sorry," I mumbled for lack of anything better to say. Urahara shook his head, taking in one last breath before lifting his head.

"No, no. That's your trump card. You can stay unbiased in tight situations and think things through evenly. Even when your friend was missing, you were the only one to stand back and look at the problem in circumspect without jumping to the most obvious conclusion or letting your personal feelings get in the way."

What, was that a compliment? Cool. I didn't get those so often.

"However, you're so impartial that even your friend's disappearance didn't faze you. You couldn't have known that I was behind it right away, so I wonder what held you back from investigating right away. When you did eventually come to see me, you did so without the company of Ichigo and the others. Tell me, do they know you're here?"

My eyes darted to the corner of the room and back. "Renji does."

"But does he know about my involvement?"

"I don't think so. He's pretty stupid."

Urahara let out another puff of air. "I see. So while the others went to look for more information, you acted on your own and ran for the finish line?"

It hadn't seemed like a bad idea until he went and put it like that. "Yeah, I guess."

"That wasn't the purpose of this exercise, Mikita," Urahara said, frowning. "You were all supposed to work together. Even if you had your suspicions, you should have shared your thoughts with the others and come here as a group. The point of this, Mikita, was to work as a team. You were the one in the most need of that lesson, actually. That's what you were supposed to learn from this: trust."

Oh. Too late for that. He should have filled me in sooner.

"So," I offered, sensing that Urahara was waiting for me to say something, "should I go back and help out?"

I knew it was a pointless suggestion. Go help the others look for clues when I'd already cracked the case? Great plan.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Urahara said, turning so that his back was to me. Jeez, the cold shoulder. "You should continue to stay out of it at this point. Lay low, play along as if you still don't know anything and let the others do what they have to do."

Urahara walked away after that, leaving me to wallow. He might not have said it directly, but I could read in between the lines: he was disappointed in me. I was supposed to have had some kind of epiphany and joined Ichigo and his quest for righteousness. Urahara wanted me to have held hands with the others and skipped through Deadman Wonderland.

The bottom line was that Urahara wanted me to change. Everyone did. Whether it was for better or worse, I didn't appreciate the intrusive gestures. Weren't real friends supposed to like you for who you were on the inside? How could they criticize me for not considering myself one of them when they all disapproved of the the person I was?

Honestly, though, I did feel bad. I knew Urahara meant well by it, but self-development just wasn't high on my priorities. Ichigo and the others could use the boot camp but I didn't want to get involved with any more of the second-hand smoke the Soul Society blew our way. If I didn't plan on fighting, I didn't need the practice. It was as simple as that.

I shifted a pocket of air between each of my cheeks, thinking about what I was supposed to do. I was home, it was still morning, and there was no Renji around to terrorize. Jinta would have to suffice. The jumping bean was a great distraction.

"Just a moment, Kame-Sama," a disembodied voice called out as soon as I stuck my foot out. Alarmed, my head snapped over to where Tessai was still crouched down in the corner. The gorilla had been there the entire time? "I think I may have misinterpreted something you said earlier. You see, from what I understand you were berating this shop and its keeper…"

One thing you never did was insult Urahara or his shop in front of Tessai. The guy really would go ape on you.

I'd landed myself in some serious monkey shit.

* * *

The next few days were some of the worst. It was boring as hell without Orihime and the rest to hang around. After Chad joined the imprisonment fad (meaning that Urahara found the need to kidnap him, too) the rest of the gang were too caught up with chasing around some new minions of Urahara's to pay me any attention. I had never actually met the modified souls the ex-captain had recruited but I already resented them for taking away my main source of entertainment.

My evenings weren't so great either. Even if Renji had only really been around for a few days, the store without him seemed a lot duller. A sure sign of the serious lack of stimulation in my life was that I actually took the time to do my chores - which had, incidentally, doubled after the misunderstanding between Tessai and I.

It was funny how Ichigo would stop by the shop to get Urahara's input, though. It was also funny how he would leave his body hanging around when he left to fight crime. An inanimate Ichigo was twelve times more fun that a living one.

(Don't worry, I didn't do anything perverted. Ichigo would just get a nice surprise the next time he took his shirt off. Assuming he wasn't already used to a pierced naval, that was.)

It was sort of unspoken knowledge that I would be staying out of the issue for the long haul, so I didn't try to check in on Chad and Orihime or help Ichigo's gang's hunt. I didn't mind much, because being a spectator was better than being involved. In a kind of, sort of way, if that made sense. I imagined that I should have been happy to finally get to stand back on the side lines, but I couldn't help but feel the opposite. In an attempt to subdue my anxiety, I told myself that there would always be another brawl to jump into, so I would have another chance to humor my more human side if I ever wanted to. For the time being, I was a free bird.

Ichigo and his team turned out to be a fairly unobservant bunch no matter how clever they, Uryuu especially, tried to be. Apparently one of Urahara's mod souls had the power to take on another's appearance, so they replaced a yet-to-be-known member of the squad. One of the most epic memories of all time was when Ichigo and Renji - who was posing as Ichigo's cousin in public - all but had sex in the school hallway to try to figure out if one of them was the fake. The two knew each other's bodies better than anything else, I could only assume.

Another epic memory was blacking out during P.E. and waking up in the middle of the night, deserted in the mountains with the rest of my class. Yeah, that one was great.

Not.

* * *

My feet hurt. Really bad. Why did people climb mountains for fun? The lack of oxygen had to have severely messed with their senses.

I laid in bed later on that night, unable to sleep due to my throbbing heels. I didn't know how late it was, exactly, but it was dark outside and had been for a good few hours, so I figured it was safe to assume it was an hour when I should have been konked out. I also assumed that my Doctor Who-like day had something to do with Urahara, but I really didn't see what point he wanted to make by stashing the entire class on Mount Olympus and making them walk home. The human's memories would be modified, of course, but there had to be some lasting psychological damage from regular exposure to would-be-nonexistent alien magic. I was sure they'd be some confusion among the rest of my classmates when they all wake up unable to walk, at the very least. Poor dears would probably think they were sleep raped and _that_ would leave psychological scars, for sure.

The trouble with not being able to use my feet was that I couldn't even drag myself to the bathroom to soak them in a warm tub. If there was someone watching over me in the heavens, I prayed they would send a sweaty, naked Renji my way so that he could lick my feet better with his hot, healing saliva.

Just then, there was a knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I called out, not daring to believe it could actually be Renji. I wasn't that lucky.

"It's Renji."

"…"

"…Can I come in?"

Could Jesus be real? Was this the belated birthday blessing he had forgotten to give me?

I stared straight ahead of me, at the ceiling. "What are you wearing?"

Please say nothing, please say nothing…

"Cut the crap and let me in."

I was better off an atheist anyway. "Fine."

The red-headed bimbo made his way in, shutting the door behind his back. I pulled myself up for formality reasons, watching as he made himself at home standing at the side of my bed and looking down at me. I raised a brow, knowing that it wasn't my Pokémon pj's and bare feet rendering him speechless.

"Can I help you?" I drawled, shifting so that I was cross-legged. Who knows - maybe my fleece Charmanders actually did turn him on.

Renji crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, maybe trying to look macho. It wasn't really working when he was dressed in far too much purple for any self-respecting guy to believe proper. Hadn't he heard of Tinky Winky? The Teletubbies had condemned all shades of plum for the male species. No one wanted to be compared to the pedophile giant with the red purse.

No, no. Renji wouldn't have known about Teletubbies. Poor chap had no idea how ridiculous he looked. That was even worse.

"What's your deal," Renji spat out, suddenly looking twice as grumpy as he did when he first walked in. I was both ticked off and a little lost.

"Care to elaborate?"

The Reaper's scowl deepened. "What the hell's wrong with you? Why aren't you helpin' out at all with this Bount stuff?"

My face scrunched up in bewilderment. "What the frick is a Bount?"

Renji's irritation faltered, those rodent-like eyes of his blinking blankly.

"Oh," he said stiffly, "you don't know about 'em?"

"Uh, no." I rolled my eyes, absent-mindedly rubbing my foot in hopes of massaging out the soreness. I wondered if I'd need physical therapy. Or maybe the muscles were beyond repair – perhaps I needed a wheelchair. And a personal slave.

Mostly, though, I really did wonder what the frick a Bount was. What had happened to Urahara's training thing with the mod souls and Hell gates? Was that old news? Why was I so far out of the loop? Someone could have kept me up to speed for shits and giggles, at the very least.

"Well, there are these things called Bounts running around," the red-head began explaining. Something told me he was giving the watered-down version. "From what Urahara's told us, they're basically spiritually gifted humans who live off spirit energy. They usually absorb the reishi from dead souls, but the Bounts have started draining the life right out of the living lately. It's a problem."

Whoa, hold on a second – murder is a problem? Since when? Jeez, people _really_ needed to clue me in more often or else I'd never know those things.

"That's too bad," I sympathized lightly, cracking my big toe. "So you guys are going to stop them, huh?"

I heard Renji's jaw pop as he grit his teeth. "Yeah, we are, and I'm guessing that that attitude of yours mean's you're not gonna be helpin' again?"

"As long as they don't come after me, it's not my problem."

The temperature in the room dropped by a full ten degrees. Or maybe it raised ten degrees. I wasn't sure, but either way there was a definite change in the air. I assumed Renji would loose patience with me and leave after a while, but he showed surprising perseverance and continued to haunt me like a Sasquatch. It was unnerving. I had to jump us onto another track.

"So… can I braid your hair?" I threw out. Judging by how willing Renji had been the other day, the guy was pretty in touch with his feminine half and liked some pampering every once in a while. Maybe indulging him would get me on his good side.

"No!"

He sounded so appalled. It wasn't like I'd asked to dye his hair green, speak in an Irish accent and do a jig for me. That would have been awesome, but selfish of me.

"But you let me a few nights ago," I pointed out.

"That was different."

"How?"

"It was my first day! I was trying not to be too much trouble."

"What does that mean?"

"None of your business."

I glared at Renji in question. Was he for real? It was like fighting with Jinta.

"Seriously," Renji said, taking a step forward. "About these Bounts-"

A ring went off just then, interrupting his words. I had no idea where the sound was coming from but Renji's hand immediately darted to his pocket, from which he pulled out a sleek cellular device.

What the hell? I didn't even have a cell phone!

"It's the captain," Renji muttered before flipping the phone open and pressing it to his ear. I looked away, sucking on my cheek. Why did that dork from another world get a cell phone? Where was the justice? I would demand that Urahara get me the newest model the next time I saw him.

I tried to act like I wasn't listening in, but really, who would buy that?

"What?" Renji questioned into the speaker. "Really? Thank you, Sir!"

Someone sounded happy. I had only just begun to hypothesize as to why when Renji hung up the phone and snatched my arm. The next thing I knew I was being tugged off of my bed by some over-zealous monkey-man.

"What the hell are you doing?" I squealed, shifting all of my weight back to keep my bum firmly planted on the mattress. Renji must not have tried too hard since I remained grounded. "Let go of me, you freak!"

"Rukia's back," Renji interrupted me with a cheer. He grabbed my arm with both of his, still trying to force me out of bed. "C'mon, Mikita. We have to go see her."

"Hell no," I denied, probably more venomous than I should have. The snarl got Renji to drop my arm, but he also stepped away and gazed down at me as if I were a millipede.

"What?" he breathed. The idea of me not jumping for joy over the young Kuchiki's return was preposterous, apparently.

I was neither thrilled or devastated about Rukia's arrival, honestly, but seeing Renji act like TVXQ was reuniting as a five member group sort of made me sick. I had almost forgotten that he was so obviously and irrevocably in love with the girl.

"Don't you want to welcome her back?" Renji asked me. "Aren't you her friend?"

"Not really. Haven't we covered this convo already? I don't do friends," I reminded him, rubbing my wrist and trying not to catch his eye. "I'm in no hurry to see Rukia and I definitely don't want to go looking for her in the middle of the night."

Renji drew back, clearly thrown off by my sass. "But she's at Ichigo's," he told me as if that actually meant something. "We should meet up with everyone to get you and Rukia filled in about the Bounts."

The man was both stubborn and dumb.

"I told you three seconds ago," I ground out. "I. Do. Not. Care. About. Bounts. Or. Rukia."

And I didn't. Bounts were popping up? Didn't give a damn. Rukia was back? Whoop-dee-do. That stuff was just keeping me from my ostracized peace in the land of Mikita All Alone. Mikita All Alone, as the name hints, was not complete when Mikita was not _all alone_. Mikita All Alone was the safe, stress-free place where I wanted to be.

"So that's it, then," my dear turkey said in a scathing sort of tone, finally getting it.

I shrugged, uncommitted. "I guess."

Renji didn't look happy. But he wasn't leaving.

He didn't accept my answer. He was waiting for a new one.

Pain in the ass.

"Look," I started, sitting up straight and tall. I guessed that I needed to establish my position with the Ghost Buster business once and for all, point blank. "I'm not a Shinigami - not a real one like you and Rukia. I didn't volunteer to spend my life fighting bad guys and I wouldn't get paid if I did decide to do it. If you still haven't figured it out by now, I'm a pretty self-satisfying kind of gal, so all of this nobility and loyalty crap doesn't really fly with me. Ichigo may be soft enough to care about the world, but I'm not. Live, die, it's all a part of being human and I'm not going to stand in the way of any of it, got it?"

By the end of the speech I was caught between patting myself on the back and slapping myself in the face. Even I didn't know I could be that harsh. Harsh, but honest.

"What I'm trying to say is that it's none of my business," I reiterated more calmly. There would be nothing to gain by getting carried away with my words but more issues. "It's your job to take care of needy spirits, so go ahead and knock yourself out going Hitler on those Bounts. The rest of the guys can tag along if they want to, but leave me out of it, okay?"

Renji didn't give me too many clues as to what he thought of my narration. I assumed that he wasn't impressed when, after a long pause, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, snapping the door shut behind him. I wasn't an expert with behavior or anything, but it didn't seem too favorable of a reaction, even if it did get him to listen to what I wanted.

I almost didn't get it. I mean, I knew Karakura Town seemed to have some kind of hero gene in the water; my selfish attitude was bound to rub a few people the wrong way. But really, why did everyone feel the need to get involved in every little thing that went wrong in the city? That was what the Shinigami were for. If Ichigo was going to bear the burden of saving the day all of the time the Soul Society might as well just adopt the kid so he could do the job of a full-fledged, official Reaper. It was asking too much of him to be both a human and demi Death God. Did the Soul Society have no shame?

I curled back under my sheets and tried to reclaim some shut eye. I was prepared for people to be pissed at me in the morning, but they would get over it. They would eventually understand my point and maybe even embrace it. Everything would work out fine.

Right?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I apologize if I don't get all of the details with all of this Bount stuff right; I'm really not making much of an effort to make sure everything matches up because I hate the Bount filler so much. I'm going to try to get through it as fast as I can, focusing mainly on Mikita/Renji development. Friggin' fillers.**


	19. Chapter 19

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

I should have gone with Renji and helped him welcome Rukia to the world. Watching those two make out would have been better than laying around, bored out of my mind. Hell, I would have been willing to join the orgy if it meant escaping the tunnel of ennui I faced at the shouten.

"Men, men, men, men. Manly men, men, men," I sang to myself, ambling down the street without an aim in mind. That was how I knew things were heading towards rock bottom: I was taking a walk just for the sake of doing something. If I deigned to actually pull my weight with chores around the store (for real, without slacking off, as in bending down and getting dirty and everything) than I might as well just kill myself.

When I began to contemplate zigzagging through the streets with my eyes closed I knew I needed to find some other way to occupy myself. I delved my hand into my pocket, fishing around for the object that was somehow lost inside. A moment later I pulled out a sleek iPhone, the newest apple of my eye.

If only I could figure out how to work the damned thing.

Sure, Urahara had advised me not to toss out the directions, but direction never helped much anyway; they served more as an elaborate system of confusion than a real instruction manual. I liked to figure things out for myself, thank you very much. It was more rewarding that way.

My initial intent with pulling out the cellular device was to phone a friend and see if anyone was available to entertain me. Obviously all of the spiritual bunch were busy with their Bounts so it was down to the few others I associated with. As soon as it touched the sunlight, though, the phone started going off right there in my hand. Now, there were a few problems with this:

1) I hadn't figured out how to control the ring tone or volume, so some lame programmed tune started jamming out at an ear-splitting pitch. Basically, anyone within a hundred meter radius was alerted of my call.

2) I hadn't figured out how to program numbers into the library either, so I didn't know who it was on the other line. (Which made my original idea of phoning a friend impossible as well.)

3) Above all, I also hadn't figured out how to answer the friggen thing. It was then that I realized that I hated technology. I should just stick with some obsolete method of communication. Like pigeons.

I wasn't sure if anyone was around watching me struggle, but I went into panic mode anyway. I rolled the phone around in my hands, jabbing at the screen until it changed, blinking away the incoming call alert and displaying a call timer instead. Taking this as a sign that the conversation was officially in session, I brought the phone up to my ear.

"Uh... Yo."

I didn't know who I was talking to. It could have been a stalker. Or a pigeon breeder with telepathic abilities responding to my SOS. Who knew? Not I.

"Mikita," a disembodied voice raked through the speaker. That gave me no hints as to who I was speaking with except that it wasn't a wrong number call. "You need to get back to the shop as quickly as possible."

It was just Urahara. In hind sight, that should have been obvious seeing as he was the only person who knew my phone number at that point. Still, a psychic bird enthusiast had been the more exciting prospect. I was disappointed.

"Whatever," I said back, smacking my lips together. Urahara, the jerk, didn't even acknowledge me before hanging up. I didn't have the same luxury of doing the same. Instead, I just slipped the phone back into my pocket without bothering to find the off switch.

Maybe I didn't want to get involved with any Bount stuff, but I could hang around and watch the rest of them do it. There was no harm in that. It was a distraction. It was _entertainment_.

On the minus side, joining in, even as a spectator, would probably lead to me getting involved in some way or another. It was basically inevitable.

But that was a risk I was willing to take. Anything was better than boredom.

I altered my route so that I was heading for the shouten. (Staying on the side walk with my eyes open, in case you were worrying.)

* * *

"Let go of my arm."

"No way. I hate hospitals. All the best horror movies have hospital scenes in them for a reason, you know. Death is waiting around every corner."

"And you're expecting me to save you?"

"Of course. You're a Death God. You deal with the dead. Innocent, breathing bystanders like me need to stay _not_ dead."

"Tch, your 'innocence' is debatable."

"Did you just call me a hussy?"

Renji didn't bother to answer, which was just fine with me. I was pretty preoccupied with clawing his arm off and glaring into every colorless corner. Renji might not have been affected since he was used to the squeaky-clean Seireitei, but if there was one thing I knew it was that nothing so neutral and sterile could be good. There was no personality to a hospital; it was just a pit of stale smells, identically unapproachable hallways, and long-suffering spirits. Everything about the place just screamed "run away while you still can!"

Honestly, I believed that the weariness of the place was half of what killed people. There was nothing fun happening in a hospital. When it came down to it, a hospital was just another business. Businesses sucked.

Given all the negativity bundled up in the building, it was only natural for me to seek comfort in the impressive mass of testosterone by my side. Renji may not have liked that I tended to talk too much when I got riled up, but what can you do? It sort of _was_ his job to deal with me, wasn't it?

The only reason we were all in that situation in the first place was because of Uryuu. He'd gone and gotten himself captured by the Bounts. As I came to find out, he'd lost his Quincy powers in the Soul Society and was almost utterly defenseless. Even _I_ could have whooped his ass. (Well, I assumed so, anyway). We were supposed to be visiting him as he recovered to be supportive or something, but you'd better believe I was going to slip some mocking in there somewhere. You couldn't pass that kind of opportunity up.

At the time of Urahara's call, Uryuu had been MIA. We'd actually been gathering to try to get a search party going. Coincidentally, though, the archer had chosen that particular time and that particular location to phone and let us all know he was safe and sound, tucked under some starchy sheets wearing only his undies and a johnny.

I found it funny. Not everyone shared my sunny-side-up attitude, however.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ichigo demanded as soon as he cleared the threshold of Uryuu's assigned room. It wasn't the most considerate greeting to give a friend you were visiting in professional medical care, but you couldn't expect much more from the notoriously sour fruit.

Uryuu apparently felt the same but obliged, launching into his explanation. I, on the other hand, got distracted thinking about what kind of lover Ichigo would make. Would he be a violent one? He'd undoubtedly give his girl a tank load of migraines; his mood swings were more frequent and turbulent than the average PMS-er's. I hoped Orihime thought about that kind of stuff. She really needed to move on to a more suitable match. But who?

"…I don't know what happened next, but when I came to I was in this hospital," Uryuu wrapped up right around the time I started tuning in. Wow. Wait to go, girl. I'd missed the whole thing.

What I did manage to gather from the following colloquy was that the Bounts were, for some unknown reason, planning some kind of world domination - big surprise there - and were singling out Uryuu as a target in the process. Given the Quincy's condition as an ex-Quincy, it was up to the rest of us to protect him. Fan-freakin'-tastic.

I looked around the room in mild interest while the others exchanged more words, noticing that it was unusually spacey. As in huge. How did Uryuu get such a deluxe hook up? There were a bunch of cabinet systems and drawers; a flat-screen TV; what looked like one of those mini hotel refrigerators; and a separate bathroom with shower, sink, toilet and all. It was a Rockefeller kind of room that you gave a someone powerful and popular. Uryuu was neither. Uryuu was nothing but a bastard coated bastard with bastard filling. Who cared about impressing a no-name kid like him? The walls were even decorated with pretty paintings rather than the lame, pastel flowers and farm scenes you would expect. Right beside me was a giant mirror with a frosted design along the edges that reminded me of fairies dancing on a frozen lake in the wonderful land of-

"Mikita! Would you stop checking out your own reflection and pay attention?"

"Sorry," I muttered mordantly, making a show of fixing my bangs. Stupid Ichigo, interrupting my Tinkerbell fantasy. "I got lost in my eyes."

Ichigo snorted and pushed past me out of the room. I jerked back, not understanding why he was leaving, but was kept from analyzing the action too deeply when Renji tugged the both of us in the substitute's footsteps. His move, while also mildly puzzling, brought a lecherous grin to my face when I realized that my arm had remained linked with the lieutenant's the entire time.

"Where are we going, honey?" I questioned, my tone sickeningly sweet. Renji glared at me from the corner of his eye in response. Apparently he hadn't realized our connection either, because he tried jerking his hostage arm free from my grip after I pointed it out. It was futile, of course, since I just clung on tighter.

"I don't know," the Shinigami answered, giving up the fight and scowling at my win. "We're just leavin' Uryuu to rest for a while. Urahara, Tessai, and Ichigo went off to talk about somethin', so I guess we're just gonna hang around."

Translation: Ichigo was conspiring with Urahara and wanted us all out of the way.

And no one liked Uryuu.

I forced myself closer to Renji's side. "What? You're kidding me, right? We're just going to wander around and wait for Dr. Acula to come after us?"

Renji quirked a brow. "Who? You know someone here?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, my tone lathered in exaggerated pompousness. "Dr. Acula, the vampire that disguises himself as a doctor so that he can get all the fresh blood he wants. AKA: Dracula."

I wondered if they had heard about Dracula in the Soul Society. Either way, it was understandable that Renji would know me well enough to simply grunt and ignore my babbling. I didn't mind much. It was good enough that he put up with it. Talking nonsense was my own personal catharsis, no matter if anyone was actually listening to me.

"I mean, think about it: How can you not be afraid of a mystery enemy?" I yammered. "You don't know anything about them, so you don't know how to defend yourself against them or take them down. Even if I'd bothered to bring Taimozou along it's not like he'd be any help to me; the thing only apes other Zanpakutou's powers. He's nothing but a hunk of metal if I'm not against another Soul Reaper. Why couldn't I have gotten Optimus Prime as my sword, huh? I could just call out "transform!" and a giant robot would bust out and protect me. That would be so bad ass."

By the end of the thought I was in need of a deep breath. While taking it, I mulled over everything that had come out of my mouth. A Soul Slayer turning into Optimus Prime? That really would be sweet! I wondered if I could get paid to invent kick-butt Zanpakutou abilities.

I turned my head to ask Renji if that kind of job existed only to notice that his spindly - and, since _when_, black - eyebrows were jumping around his forehead like the needle of those EMF detectors on paranormal programs.

"What's up with you?" I questioned with sass, not finding the bodily function attractive at all. What was wrong with him? The motion of his brows was weird enough, and apparently they were tattooed onto his face. Why would he do that? What happened to the real ones? He didn't get any stray hairs popping up around the ink lines? Or did he just shave them off? Did he have a mustache that I didn't know about? A beard? A goatee?

"Is there anythin' even remotely tolerable about you?" the lieutenant ground out. "I've never met someone so annoyin' in so many different ways."

I put on a face of affront. "I'm annoying? Me? How so? I'm a ball of delightful energy. Not to mention trustworthy, noble, selfless, helpful, demure-"

"Would you shut up?" Renji exploded. Veins were popping out of his reddened neck. "And. Let. Go. Of. My. Arm!"

Each word was accompanied with a hearty heave of said arm until Renji's elbow shot from my grip like a cork from a wine bottle. I jerked back out of instinct, not wanting to get smacked by the barbarous flailing of limbs.

"Dude," I exclaimed, "chill."

Renji only glared, his nose scrunched up in a snarl that was both terrifying and a little adorable. "And by the way, dumbass," the ever-so-professional official said, "your Zanpakutou stores spirit energy and can change into anythin' ya want it to. You have more of an advantage than any of us fightin' an unknown enemy since you have so many potential offenses."

I thought that one over. He was right. My theory hadn't been developed in-depth enough, I guess.

But he didn't have to be such a jerk about it.

"I won't let someone like you call me a dumbass," I countered, narrowing my eyes and squaring my stance. "I liked you better when you were the sheepish new guy who kept your opinions to yourself."

"Well, I'm sick a' keepin' my opinions to myself," Renji whipped back. "The more you talk, the more I wanna shove you out a window."

Shove me out a window? That didn't sound right. It seemed like an overly hostile reaction. Boys were supposed to be drunk off my beauty and quick wit. Did shoving someone out a window translate as a sexual act where Renji came from? Was it considered foreplay?

No, no. That couldn't be it. Renji must have really wanted to kill me. Yikes. How did a girl respond to that? The guy had admitted to wanting to cause me non-erotic bodily harm. That wasn't good.

As always, Ichigo came to save the day.

"What are you idiots doing?" the substitute asked as his head popped around the corner behind us. Had Renji and I really been strolling aimlessly long enough for Ichigo to complain? "Urahara and Tessai left, so let's go back to Uryuu."

I followed without a word, not up for any more spats. I didn't particularly want to be alone with Renji after finding out that he wasn't harboring the urge to jump me every time we were together. (Well, not in the way I wanted him to, at least). The worst part was, who could blame him?

Being quiet was too out of character for me, especially in tense moments. I was determined not to let Renji know he'd gotten to me, so there was only one thing to do.

"It would also be cool if a Zanpakutou shot out food or something," I relayed, my eyes wide and unfocused on the path ahead of me. "Like gallons of soda or massive amounts of pudding. And another idea would be a sword that turned into a laser, like a Light Saber, with the funky sound effects and everything. Maybe there could be one that just killed whoever looks at it instantly so that you avoid fighting all together. The release command could be '_Avada Kedavra_.'"

Ichigo caught Renji's eye. "Do I wanna know?"

* * *

As it turns out, Uryuu's father owned the hospital. The Quincy spilled the beans about his family's business after Ichigo commented on the VIP treatment I'd noticed hitherto. It was pretty fitting when you thought about it: Freaks like the Ishidas would, of course, own a death balloon. They probably tortured patients personally just for their own twisted amusement. Like father like son. (Was it absurd that I'd never even considered that Uryuu _had_ a father to begin with?)

Night fell eventually, drawing Renji, Orihime, and Chad out of the room and to the waiting lounge for some rest and refreshments. They took a couple of the mod souls Urahara had created with them, too, for whatever reason. Ichigo, Rukia and I stayed behind to watch over Uryuu. Well, I stayed behind watch Ichigo being whipped by Rukia while the two of them watched over Uryuu. Plus I'd snagged the comfy chair, and there was no way I was giving that up.

I was further entertained when the sink sprouted a leak; trust an Ishida hospital to be impressive only on the surface. Somehow the whole gang sprouted up from the ground as time ticked by with various items to catch the water flow. Nothing was working, which only increased the emotion in the room.

I held steady on standby until Orihime opened up the shower door, releasing an entire lake. That little doozy piped my interest and got me thinking that something might seriously be wrong.

"Every faucet in the freakin' place is bleeding," I noted needlessly. Something told me that the flooding was too severe to be normal. I finally vacated my seat only to regret it when I soaked my socks and shoes. "Guys, I don't think it's the plumbing..."

No one listened to me, of course, not that I could be surprised considering the current chaos and my lassitude towards all past problems. I bet they all wished they'd given me proper attention when the water came to life and tried to eat Uryuu, though.

I'm not pulling your leg. It's the truth. That's what happened.

A mass of H2O rose from the floor and shot towards the bed, engulfing the injured archer. Uryuu was captured in an animated, aquatic orb. I found myself unable to do anything but gape while he drowned in front of me, too stumped by it all to let my adrenaline take over.

Chad's attempts to break through the liquid prison failed, but there was no problem that Ichigo couldn't solve by flailing Zangetsu.

"Let's get out of here," Rukia asserted once the blob was incapacitated. My body didn't hesitate to bloom to life at that suggestion, and I pole-vaulted into the hallway ahead of all the others.

Rukia followed up her first order with a second: Close the door behind us.

Because closing the door was going to keep the water inside.

Stupid.

"Ah! That didn't stop it!" Orihime cried in despair when the door didn't, in fact, stop the pool.

"Really, you guys," I pressed, half pissed and half terrified as I watched the group dart around, stumbling over each other to stuff blankets into the fissure between the floor and door. "Why do none of you seem to have that 'stay alive' instinct? When something's after you, you run the frick away, not hang around and assess the situation."

"She's right," Rukia seethed, seemingly at her wit's end. "This isn't getting us anywhere. Something tells me that the Bounts are involved here, and if this is a doll then we won't be able to hold it off this easily. We should try to gain some distance and figure out how to stop it."

Rukia's words were, as always, magic, and were followed without resistance. The gang and I made haste, trying to put as much distance between the doll and ourselves as possible. I found myself wishing that dolls could have just been FrankenBarbies like their names suggested rather than freaky, kill-y things.

That urge only doubled when the drinking fountain joined the dark side and regurgitated some liquefied killer. Where were the doctors when you needed them, eh? There was a serious crisis going on!

(But seriously, where was everyone?)

My jaw ground together as I stood back, letting those who were able to defend themselves do so. The only thing I could do was duck and cover until the coast was clear. I was such an idiot. Why hadn't I brought Taimozou? There were vampires after us and I hadn't thought to bring my sword? Even if I couldn't wield him very well it would have been helpful just to have him. I had no hope _without_ him.

I was hopeless.

Really.

Since when?

It sucked, relying on everyone else to protect me. Why was I such a loser? What had happened to that cocky girl who had disarmed Renji, huh? Since when was I the damsel? I was of little more use than the immobile Uryuu! I couldn't even lend more to the battle than a kid with no spiritual powers. What was wrong with me?

"Let's go, Mikita!"

I didn't bother to put a face to the voice. I just followed the command. What else was there for me?

The hospital finally got with the program and set off an alarm that triggered the evacuation of the building. I was relieved, even if I wasn't sure why. I was glad everyone was getting out safe, and I probably hoped that our group would be part of the flee.

Only we weren't.

"What are you looking at a map for?" I sneered. It was difficult to control my temper, even with Orihime, who had been the one to stop for directions. "Just follow the crowd."

"Do you really think we're just gonna leave?" Ichigo lipped, matching my sass with a glare of his own. "We've gotta stop this thing."

"Would you quit _saying_ things like that." I growled, slow and sinister. The dam was snap, crackle, and popping. "You don't have to be the hero all the time, Ichigo. This isn't your problem. You're a fifteen-year-old kid, not a Soul Reaper. Act like it for once, God damn it."

"What do you mean it isn't our problem?" Ichigo rebutted. He advanced on me without an ounce of fear, and I heard a lethal crunch in the back of my mind. "We have to do this because we're the only ones who can!"

"No, you moron." I reared up, ready to hold absolutely nothing back. I was furious. Furious and afraid. I couldn't deny the release of the storm that'd been brewing inside of me since the Hell words 'Shinigami' and 'zanpakutou' and 'Hollow' had reappeared in my life. It was all too much; it'd all gone too far. "You're _not_ the only one who can. These things are the Soul Society's responsibility, _not_ yours. If they want to send down this turkey and his celestial princess-" I gestured to Renji and Rukia, "-down to take care of everything, then that's their fail. Don't keep saving their tails and covering their tracks all the time, Ichigo. Live your own life without taking on other peoples' weight."

The silence that hung over us after my speech was too cinematic for my tastes. I breathed deeply, steadily, focusing on my clenched fists, and kept my eyes locked on Ichigo's. The warm cocoa I had sometimes seen in his eyes was the color of farmyard mud. Even if he didn't like what I was saying, he needed to hear it. It was the truth. Ichigo was a slave and it needed to end. The buddy-buddy-ness with the Seireitei needed to stop. Humans should have never been roped into taking care of supernatural dirty work.

"Uryuu's the one they're after," Ichigo said eventually. It was clear he was working to keep his tone level, though it was far from innocuous. "It may not be my responsibility to handle these things, but as long as my friends are involved and in danger I'm going to do whatever I can to help. I know you're not the type to go outside of your comfort zone and risk your neck for anyone, so maybe it would be best if you followed the crowds out and left the situation in here to us."

Although my outward expression didn't flicker, my innards churned. He was kicking me out? I was stunned, but only for a moment. Then anger took over again, only I wasn't sure where it was directed.

"Yeah, that would be best," I spoke in a simmering rage. I turned on my heel, determined not to look back once I had broken contact. "Enjoy the rat race. I'm sure you will, since death seems to be a nothing but a game for you guys. If you do die I'll make sure to tell your families that you were selfless about it."

It struck me some time later, after I'd stepped out into the night air with the throng, that what I'd said might have been a little harsh considering most of those guys didn't even have families to worry about them anymore, but my point still stood, didn't it? Just because they didn't have blood relations didn't mean they didn't have people who cared about them. Every single one of them had people who cared about them, but _they_ didn't seem to care that other people cared.

Did they really think they were being selfless? I'd argue the opposite.

But then what did that make me?

* * *

I repeatedly stubbed my toes into the asphalt as I strolled home. I'd had a revelation somewhere between the hospital and my current location, and it was kind of pathetic that it'd taken me that long to figure it out.

I wasn't ahead of the game anymore. I wasn't even playing the game. I was stuck in the past. Back then, when everyone was first developing their powers, I was a person they'd looked to as a guide. Now-a-days I was the limp limb. How had that happened?

Did it matter? I had established on multiple occasions that I wouldn't be joining Ichigo and his crew on their quest for gallantry. So why was I upset? It shouldn't have mattered that I hadn't reached bankai or even managed to secure mediocre control over my shikai. Just because Ichigo had excelled didn't mean I had to.

Still, I couldn't let go of the sense of abandonment. Then I was a little more than a little miffed about feeling abandoned in the first place. Wasn't my outlook on life supposed to keep me from getting tied up in sentimental things like that? Ichigo did it all the time, and I saw it as frivolous stupidity. It had been best for me to walk away and wrestle my head on straight. My priorities were confused and in need of fixing.

A drop of water land on my nose at some point, and I almost had to laugh. So damn cliché. The drop was quickly followed by another, and another, until a sheet of rain poured down on the city. It was a scene straight out of a chick-flick.

But wait, rain?

The hospital was way too far back in the dust to be seen, but that didn't stop me from pivoting around and staring in the direction I'd left. My breath hitched in my throat, and my body prepared to change course.

For, like, a nanosecond. I came to my senses before I could go through with it and remembered that I wasn't wanted or needed. So what if the Bount controlled water? Screw it. Screw _them_.

With an undeniably heavy heart, I lowered my head, shielding my face from the downpour as I scurried back home like a drowned rat.

* * *

I wasn't sure what the sight of Urahara waiting up for me meant. I guess I should have been insulted that he was, presumably, expecting me home early (since he did, without doubt, know about the brawl going on at that very moment). I had no extra room for more self-pathos, though. I was fully intent on stalking straight passed him and towards my bedroom - which I very well would have done if he hadn't spoke up.

"I can't say I'm surprised." Urahara's placid tone penetrated the air. I halted, waiting for his reprimand. I could feel his viridescent gaze on my back.

"Is that it?" I asked when the internationally renowned pain in the ass didn't continue his thought. I heard his humorless chuckle and a rustle of clothing.

"If you want it to be," Urahara said. His geta clicked as he moved. What I didn't expect, however, was that the sound would be growing fainter. "I don't need to tell you that you were wrong. You've heard that before. There comes a point where my lessons loose their worth and you have to figure things out for yourself. Your fate is in your own hands now, Mikita."

Urahara's proverbs only refueled the rage inside of me. Who was _former_ Captain Kisuke to play god with me? My fate was fine. There was nothing wrong with the way I chose to live. Just because I didn't stand spread eagle in the path of danger didn't mean I was wrong. Why was everyone so intent on putting me down and molding me into something that I _just wasn't_?

"It's not like you have room to talk, mister convict," I spewed. I knew what I was saying, but I was seeing red and too hot to care. "You were exiled, if I remember correctly. How does it feel to know you lost everything you worked so hard for? To have an entire dimension spit on your name?"

Even the dark side of me was aware that that'd definitely been a low blow, but I wasn't one to take back the things I said. Maybe Urahara had been too far aware to hear me?

Of course not.

"Lonely, sometimes," the shop keeper answered, his voice husky. "But you can relate to that feeling, can't you? I'm thankful for having things that I have worked for and do care about, at least, even if they're in the past. Memories are better than nothing."

My heart was beating against the roof of my mouth. The audacity of that toad. What he was spelling out between the lines there?

"You can't pretend to be soulless forever, Mikita."

Ah. That. Again.

"Watch me," I retorted fiercely, pounding my way across the store floor to the back rooms. "In fact, I'm going to go sit by my giant, pretend seahorse Zoppico right now and pretend to give a crap."

And that's just what I did, storming into my bedroom and burying myself under the pillows of my bed while an imaginary seahorse of epic proportions neighed soothingly in my ear.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Did you really expect me to do a chapter in a hospital setting and not include some memorable Scrubs lines? How many did you pick up on?**

**That bit about the PWNing zanpakutou abilities (especially the Optimus Prime idea) was a result of a conversations between jackinafrickinbox and I. Credit to that sadistic, perversed freak and the little people in his head.**

**So, 12-31-12 marks two years since this story was last updated for real. That's... disappointing, I guess, to say the least. I originally planned to have the re-write done in time for a real update on the **_**one year**_** anniversary. But alas...**

**Bright side? The end is near. For the re-write, I mean. And then we can dive back into the serious business. I have not given up, although I don't blame past readers who have. And for those of you who are somehow still sticking with me, bless you. Seriously. Because I wouldn't have done it if I were you. O_O**

**bioniclemon, you are Mikita's lord and savior. **


	20. Chapter 20

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

"Am I selfish?"

Keigo threw his arm (plus the added bonus of half of his body weight) over my shoulder. "Of course not, Mikita. You're just confident in your own superior esteem. Like me! We're both self-satisfying extroverts, you and I, and that's what makes us the perfect couple."

I didn't have it in me to wiggle out of Keigo's grasp, which also meant that I didn't shudder at the thought of us being a couple, perfect or not. We must have looked something like a couple as we left the school grounds together like that at the close of the day anyway.

Was Keigo right? Were we actually two peas from the same pod?

Damn. What was the point of living so low?

Pseudo suicidal thoughts had been popping up pretty often in my mind. I was brooding and restless and stuck at the end of my rope. I couldn't find respite in anything or anyone. Being around people made me yearn for seclusion and yet, when I was left alone, all I did was pray to get pulled out from my rut. I couldn't even get too irritated or gloomy; I just kind of gave up all together.

I wasn't delusional, so I had no problem admitting that I was apathetic. I always had been. At least, I had been for long enough for it to seem like an ingrained part of who I was. I'd just been dwelling on it more than ever since the hospital incident.

If I was so callous then why was the whole thing bugging me so much? And not in the kind of way where I blamed Ichigo and his idolism for all of my trouble. I was actually taking the time to consider that maybe it really was _me_ who was at fault.

I was no role model. No arguments there. And now that I was spending so much of my time alone, I wondered why anyone had ever bothered with me in the first place.

Ichigo's crew was probably just naive in the beginning, I guess, like Keigo still was. I was more entertaining than annoying to high schoolers who had nothing substantial to worry about. My I-don't-give-a-damn behavior didn't fly with the big kids, though. They saw me for what I really was, a "spoiled brat," as Renji had pinned it.

Was that really what I was? Was I really just your typical Veruca Salt?

When had that happened? I'd had spunk as a wee tot, sure, but I'd had enough loyalty to Urahara to abandon my whole _world_ for him, hadn't I?

So which was the real me? That little girl who risked it all for someone special or the chick who floated around in perpetual limbo? I'd been both of them at some point in my life, but I couldn't be both simultaneously. Was I actually so innocent that reality had scared me into a rock-hard shell? I couldn't figure it out, and it was frustrating the hell out of me.

I was having an identity crisis. And it wasn't fun.

"You okay, Mikita?" Keigo piped up. He withdrew his arm and shot me a concerned look. "You've been acting a little weird for the past few days. And you've barely even spoken to Orihime or your usual crowd." Keigo's eyes widened, and I knew instantly that his level of tolerability was about to plummet. "Are you girls fighting? Say it ain't so! The two hottest girls in class giving each other the cold shoulder? This can't happen! Do you know what this does to my dreams?"

I really didn't want to know what it did to his (ahem, wet) dreams. And I really didn't care how my troubles affected his fantasies. Did other people see me as a female version of this guy? Did I come across as _that_ obnoxious?

"Give it a rest, Asano," a feminine tone cut in, prompting the both of us to turn around. Tatsuki sauntered up from behind, sending a disapproving glare to the male hanging off of me. "No one wants to hear any of your perverted ideas."

"Aw, c'mon, Tatsuki!" Keigo whined. He retreated from my immediate side, though, and stomped his feet. "Aren't you upset about Mikita and Orihime fighting too?"

Tatsuki's gaze darkened, and I immediately averted my eyes to the sidewalk. I had a few good guesses about what was on her mind.

"Actually, I have been wondering about that," Tatsuki said, her words calculated. "I know everyone has their secrets and that's fine, but something's definitely changed with you, Mikita. I'm worried."

Since when had people paid that much attention to and spared that much thought for me?

I didn't know how to respond, and after struggling for a bit I decided that a response was overdue and unneeded. I tried to turn away and start walking, but I didn't make it very far.

"Just tell me it's not anything too dangerous," Tatsuki implored, grabbing hold of my arm. My eyes stayed on the asphalt. "I know you might not be involved anymore, but you know more about what's going on than I do. If you've pulled out, I trust your judgment. So please, tell me that Orihime's not still in danger. That's all I need to know."

How was I supposed to answer that one? Orihime was facing foul souls and soul-suckers on a daily basis. She was voluntarily putting herself in harm's way and being encouraged to do so. _Hell yeah_ was she in danger.

But I couldn't exactly tell that to Tatsuki, could I?

"She's protected," I settled on saying. "She's got Ichigo. Mister Orange won't let anything happen to her. He's chauvinistic like that."

There probably would have been some profound silence after that, but there was actually a lot of noise going off around us. A good amount of students were still hanging around the school grounds chatting before they went home or to work or whatever. There was also Keigo, still on stand-by, bouncing on his feet but recognizing that it wasn't his place to interrupt. Only Tatsuki and I were still and quiet.

"Yeah," Tatsuki breathed after a second, letting out a small laugh. "I didn't think of that. You're right. Ichigo's there."

Of course Ichigo was there. He was always there, like freakin' Lassie. Like I would never be, because I wasn't him or anything like him.

"You girls are so confusing." Keigo successfully ruined the moment with his wail. "One minute you're best friends and the next you stop talking to each other. You speak in code all the time so I can never understand what you guys are saying. And why is Ichigo always the center of your conversations? _I don't get it_!"

Tatsuki and I indulged Keigo with a look alone before we turned in tandem and left the scene.

"So, how've you been?" Tatsuki quipped. When I offered a cloyed shrug as an answer, my companion frowned in a very Ichigo-like way. "Gee, thanks for the insight," she said, snorting. Her eyes tendered almost right away, though, and a somber smile pulled up the corners of her lips.

"I won't ask you what's going on with the others or why you aren't part of it anymore," Tatsuki told me, "but it might be nice to hang out again now that you're free. How about it?"

For some reason the offer made me go numb.

Free? I was free from the ghostly obligations. Interesting thought. I'd always complained about not wanting to be involved, so why wasn't I living it up? It was what I had wanted, right?

"Maybe some other time, Tatsuki," I heard myself respond. It was like I was having an out of body experience; without meaning to, I was slithering out of grasp. "This is my stop, so I'll see you tomorrow."

The store was still ten minutes away, and Tatsuki would have known it.

I was a coward, and I knew Tatsuki had no idea of the extend of it.

* * *

When I pulled open the shouten door, I was met with an ultra up-close and personal view of Renji. Not his face, but his chest.

Damn, he was tall. And buff. But that's irrelevant.

A stuffed silence ensued. Things had been like that around Urahara's. It was as if the rest of the "family" expected me to sprout Wolverine claws and go on a rampage. I'd been trying to stay out of sight to avoid all the awkwardness, but run-ins were inevitable.

Renji, whose eyes had bulged out in that goofy surprised face of his, soon realized who he was looking at. His features sunk and he let out a grunt. I fed off his radiated vibes and adopted a lazy glare.

"How the hell did you get here before me?" I demanded. As chill as I hoped I looked on the outside, my insides were all jittery. I was nervous but not sure why.

Renji grunted again. "I didn't go to class today, dumbass," he said. I was genuinely offended by his words and tone. It was a harsh guy-to-girl exchange. "We've been busy with the Bounts."

"Gee," I drawled, rolling my eyes, "I'm sorry I don't keep tabs on your troublemaking."

I got a huff from Renji before he pushed past me to get out the door.

"Rude," I called after him. I waited an extra second to see if he'd turn around or snap back or anything, but when he didn't I stepped fully into the store and shut the door behind me. Safely inside, I let out an almost complacent sigh.

The truth of it was, I preferred Renji's straight-forward animosity over the silences. I could handle people overtly hating me, but I didn't like putting on a mind reader's hat, so to speak.

Newly melancholic, I dragged my feet as I passed through the store, hoping that I wouldn't run into anyone else who would bum me out further. I reached my room without interruption, thankfully, and pulled the door open.

There, another unexpected sight met me: Orihime was sitting on my bed.

"Kame-chan!" Orihime squeaked a bit, un-rightfully startled by my appearance in my own room. I myself felt my bladder constrict a little, if you know what I mean, but my reaction was justified.

"Orihime," I greeted, stunned. In no way, shape, or form was I expecting (or particularly happy) about anyone making themselves cozy in my personal space. And what the hell was Orhime of all people doing waiting for me in my room? Was this supposed to be an intervention?

Why wasn't anyone willing to just give up on me? Wasn't that supposed to be the easiest thing? Why was it so hard for everyone to dismiss me for the way I was and let me live my life in lonesome?

I was the first to recover, or at least the first to try to recover. After clearing my throat, I put on a smile that was nauseatingly fake feeling. "Hey, what's up?"

Orihime blinked owlishly, and I imagined that the gears in her brain were struggling to process all of the conflicting, confusing information that the sight of me must have brought on. After all, why would Mikita Kame show up out of the blue in the very place where she lived and breathed and flourished? It was a lot to take in.

"Kame-chan," Orihime repeated quietly, almost unintelligibly. "Kame-chan, I…"

"So what are you doing here, exactly?" I cut her off. I wasn't in the mood to wait for Orihime to get to the point, and I was a little wary of what the point of her visit was to begin with. "Did someone die?"

Orihime's visual discomfort made way for raised eyebrows before tumbling into something like depression. "Well, actually, Yoshino-san…"

I piped my own brow. The phrase "Did someone die?" probably shouldn't have been used with a group of people who really did run around flirting with the Grim Reaper. It was bound to become a reality that someone would, indeed, have died. Duly noted.

But since it was a name I didn't know, my level of concern was pretty low. "Oh, really? Who's that?"

"She was a friend of Uryuu's… A Bount…"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I sauntered up to my dresser, busying myself with rearranging around the clutter. "That's good, isn't it? One less to deal with."

I didn't realize how insensitive that sounded until after I had said it. But I had a point, didn't I? Trust those goons to go and make friends with the enemy rather than take them out before the chance presented itself.

"Anyway," I went on, "did you need something? I would assume so, seeing as you snuck into my bedroom to ambush me and all."

"Oh!" Orihime gasped, easily distracted by my onslaught of revolving topics. "Actually Kame-chan, I'm going to be staying here with you for a little while, if it's not too much trouble."

She had to be joking, right? She was kidding? Ha-ha?

So NOT funny.

"Uh…_why_?"

My horribly hidden displeasure ruined the progress I'd made with keeping Orihime from being so twitchy.

Orihime stumbled over her words, her cheeks a shade of magenta. "Well, Urahara-san advised it since the Bounts are becoming such a threat. He doesn't want any of us alone in case something happens. It just makes more sense to stick together at a time like this, I guess."

I was sort of in awe. Really? My life was that serendipitous?

"People have been staying here pretty often, though," Orihime went on, her tone careful. "But you must not have noticed. The Soul Society is really interested in the Bounts as well. Captain Soi Fon is here, Ganju-san and Hanatarou. Even Uryuu and Yoshino-san stayed in one of the spare rooms a few days ago while they were recovering. Everything's happening so fast I can barely keep up with it all."

Oh, what irony. My worst enemy had been under the same roof as me without my knowledge or permission; some gorilla I barely even knew that had probably snooped through my underwear drawer while I was away at school; and Uryuu and his soul-sucking girlfriend had been shacking up down the hall. Great. I could sleep easy tonight, for sure.

I wheezed out a couple of chuckles, keeping my face downcast. "I guess you miss out on a lot when you're not a part of the team anymore, huh?"

Smart move, Mikita. Way to bring the dreaded topic up yourself rather than fighting tooth-and-nail to avoid it.

"Yeah, I guess you would," Orihime agreed in a mouse-like way. She shifted to sit on her knees, her fingers curling into her skirt and her expression setting. "Kame-chan, do you think that maybe we could talk about tha-"

"Whoah," I exclaimed, whipping out a finger to point towards my bed-side clock. "It's almost seven already? It'll be dark soon. I have to go to the store and get some chocolate. Did you know I can't sleep without it? The caffeine puts me to sleep, I think. Weird, but true. Definitely a necessity. See ya."

I hoped I would get lucky and Orihime wouldn't realize that we were already in a candy store until after I'd left the building.

"W-wait! Kame-chan!"

But I was already reeling out of the room. I made my way down the hall, swift and smooth, until I reached the shop. As I race-horsed my way through the doors, I was hit with unwelcomed company yet again. Literally this time.

"Kame, you whale! What the heck do you think you're doing?"

"Making a hasty exit, Jinta. Now _move_."

I managed to unwind my limbs from Jinta's after a brief wrestling match. I fully intended to continue zooming away had it not been for Jinta's yammering.

"Where d'ya think you're goin' anyway?" the pint-sized demon demanded. "It's too risky for a wimp like you to be goin' out without cover."

"Thanks for the kind gesture," I ground out, "but I think I'll be fine. They won't be sniffing me out when there are plenty of humans around to suck dry."

"I didn't mean it like that," Jinta snapped, pressing his knuckles into his hips. "I was talkin' about what would happen if you did come across a Bount on the attack. It ain't fair to the people who will die just 'cause you're a loser who has spiritual powers but won't use them."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Better hope I don't run into anyone, then."

Jinta stared me down, and I did my best to look as dry as an old, wrinkly elbow. Maybe it worked, or maybe it failed miserably. Whichever way it fell, Jinta huffed and broke eye contact.

"At least bring that splinter of a zanpakutou with you," Jinta advised. "It might do something if you get inta' trouble."

"No, thanks. I live life on the edge."

It was really just to spite Jinta that I refused to grab Taimozou. The twerp did have a point, after all, since I hated the feeling of being defenseless and at risk. But that might have been the answer right there: If I did have Taimozou with me I would have to wield him and fight back. If I fought, I would be a Soul Reaper. A pathetic Soul Reaper. I didn't want to embrace that side of me, especially when it was nothing to be proud of. I was the best at letting people down, and wasn't there a saying that you should stick with what you're good at?

If I happened to stumble across a Bount, I would absolutely run away and alert someone more competent of the situation. That was the most I could do. The most I _would_ do. The rest was out of my hands.

"Whatever," Jinta said, his tone scathing. "Do what you want, but do it far away from me."

Jinta helped me out the door with a foot to the ass. I stumbled into the cool evening air and felt the door clip my back as it closed. Disgruntled, I took the time to stand there and glare before pulling myself together and making for the nearest mini-mart.

My life. It was one of a kind.

* * *

Night crept in faster than I'd anticipated, and by the time I got to the 24-hour store I was tired, a little freaked out from the dark, and only then realizing that I'd forgotten my wallet.

I grit my teeth and stared into the store's window from the sidewalk. At least I'd gotten out of the house for a while. And it wasn't like I'd actually needed to buy anything anyway. But no matter how bright the bright side was, the situation still sucked.

Just as I gave up and turned around to head back to Urahara's, a hand clapped over my shoulder. The constant confrontations had snapped me into ninja mode.

"Mikit-AH!"

I had no idea a karate chop could be so painful. Then again, Keigo did have an abnormally thick skull.

I hissed under my breath, pulling my hand from Keigo's hair part and shaking off the pain. I regarded him blandly and commented, "Oh, it's just you."

"_Just me_?" Keigo howled. "You're not glad to see me, Mikita? It was fate that we met up like this. Now I can walk you home, protect you from the terrors lurking in the shadows, woo you with my courage and get a kiss by the end of the night!"

That's not quixotic at all.

"Uh, sure. Why not?"

I did say that the dark freaked me out. Could you blame me for taking up an offer for company? Keigo wouldn't be of much help when it came down to it, considering he had no idea what kind of terrors were really lurking in the shadows, but he could distract me with that big mouth of his. That big mouth of his could also deter the bad guys. Or, you know, attract them. One or the other.

"Yahoo!" My god, Keigo was yodeling. "I've got a date with Mikita Kame! This is the best night of my life!"

What a sad life the boy lived.

"It's just too bad it's a school night." Keigo simpered. Did he honestly think that attitude of his was even slightly attractive? "I could have taken you out for real. Gah, I HATE YOU, EDUCATION!"

F-R-E-A-K.

"It's not so bad," I said, pushing myself to talk only so that Keigo wouldn't. "It's way better than my old school. All they did there was drill cultural superiority into your head and encourage dying for the country. Swimming lessons were fun, though. They'd put you in this harness and hang you from the ceiling to practice your strokes. Ah, the good 'ol days."

Keigo was quiet for once, for a while. "What kind of school did you go to, Mikita? That sounds like something out of the nineteenth century."

I could only cough.

Keigo didn't speak again. For a few minutes. I thought, for a moment, that he had finally gone brain dead.

"Asano?" I probed, peering at him from my eye. He looked fine, but Keigo just wasn't Keigo without his mouth flapping. "You okay?"

There were a few crickets going to town with their leg music in the background. Besides that, there was only the sound of Keigo and my footsteps. It totally defeated the purpose of bringing someone else along with me.

Keigo blinked a few times until the spark returned to his eye. He rubbed his neck. "Well, I was just wondering something," he started. "The reason for you not hanging out with the usual crew isn't because of Ichigo, is it?"

Why the hell was everyone so god-dang curious?

"Not really," I spoke stiffly. "Why?"

"Well, I thought maybe you guys had broken up."

"…"

Broken up? As in, we had been together?

I must have missed that.

"No, we didn't break up."

"Oh."

"Because we were never going out in the first place."

"Oh!"

My face folded into a sour look. "Who spread that faulty information nugget around?"

"You did," Keigo claimed. His energy was returning to him bit by bit. "A few weeks ago you said that you and Ichigo were skipping class to go make out. Everyone just assumed that you guys were an item after that."

Did I really say that? I didn't remember. I needed to start monitoring to that kind of stuff.

"We weren't, are not, and never will," I said. "He's not my type."

Keigo perked up considerably. "What is your type?"

I'd never thought about that sort of thing seriously, so I honestly wasn't sure. Did anyone really have a "type?"

On the superficial front, my type was probably a stud muffin who commanded my eyes and triggered fantasies about rolling around in the sheets. I had no mind to commit to a legitimate relationship. Going for a guy and falling for a guy were two separate things. What you wanted in a partner and what you needed in a partner were two separate things.

But, hypothetically, what kind of guy would I fall for? An amusing one, I would think, whether it was intentional or not. And looks were important, no matter what kind of "beauty is on the inside" spiel someone tried to preach. At some point in time, some of his physical features would have to stand out and make a girl go crazy.

Beyond that, he'd definitely have to have some edge. You know, to challenge me and keep me on my toes. But in the end I'd always win, because brains beat brawn and that's just the way the world worked.

He'd need to have his sweetheart side for behind closed doors, too. I wasn't sure if it was possible, and I knew it sounded cockeyed, but he'd have to earn my complete and utter trust. I'd have to be secure enough with him to open up my most vulnerable, untouched inner layers. He'd have to take care of me, and I'd have to let him. That was the biggy.

So, to sum it up somewhat, I liked the idea of a man with a backbone and a weakness; sensitivity, complexity, drive, and, perhaps most importantly, a drop-dead-sexy ass. For some reason, two males that I already knew came to mind: Ichigo and Renji.

Huh.

"The kind that aren't named after fruit," I said with a shrug. I anticipated Keigo's cry of joy.

"You're in luck then, Mikita! I'm right here, completely devoid of citrus, and totally available! What'd ya say we - huh? You hear that buzzing noise? What is that?"

I was pretty sure that it was just his brain cells frying, but the sound eventually resonated in my own ears. When I scanned the area for a source of the disturbance, I didn't take long for me to notice a bunch of elevated creatures with wings staring the two of us down a short distance ahead. It was the kind of sight that had supernatural written all over it.

I hung my head.

Doomed. I was doomed.

"Mikita, look! What are those things?"

May the Lord welcome me with open arms.

"Are those killer bees? Vampire bats? CG special effects?"

Jesus take the wheel.

Keigo yelped. "Help! Help!"

I was deeply tempted to roll my eyes at Keigo's wailing, but the bruise-burning grip the boy had on my wrist kept my bodily functions at bay. When Keigo embarked on a sudden, hysterical flee, my feet nearly left the ground.

I didn't know why Keigo was so afraid. Hummingbirds weren't exactly scary, so if I hadn't known that the things definitely weren't hummingbirds then I wouldn't have batted an eye. (Well, a herd of over-sized hummingbirds stalking you in the middle of the night was a little out of the ordinary, admittedly). I didn't know what the buggers chasing us were, but I wouldn't have cared enough to run for the hills right away if I were Keigo.

They were coming after us, though. Normal birds didn't do that. Nice things normally didn't do that.

Keigo jerked me with him behind a wall, pressing the pair of us against the crumbling concrete. I instinctively tried to hold my breath, but all the running had taken my breath from me, resulting in a sort of gasp reflex.

Still, I managed. Keeping as quiet as we could, Keigo and I waited until the buzz of bugs had passed by our hiding spot. Once in the clear, we both let out a puff of air and trickled back into the street.

"What was that?" Keigo muttered to himself.

I wondered how much Keigo and seen and what he was thinking. Bounts were more like humans than hollows, so I guess it made sense that Keigo would be able to see something related to them. But how much had he seen so far? His spiritual pressure wasn't off the charts, but it was higher than your average Joe's. I had no idea how someone so naive would rationalize the bizarre happenings that shook up Karakura, especially when no one else he tried to talk to about it would have any answers. Maybe I owed the kid more credit.

The kid in question was still mumbling. "That was so - _guh_!"

That was so guh?

No, I was giving him all the credit he deserved.

I turned on Keigo with palms planted on my sides, ready to tell him off for making up stupid words rather than using ones that already existed, but I lost track of the rant when I saw blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. There was a mutated insect embedded in his stomach.

I barely managed to drop my jaw before Keigo slumped to the ground. I didn't realize what I was doing until my knees were stinging and Keigo's head was in my lap.

To make up for that act of kindness, I smacked him hard across the cheek.

"Keigo," I screamed into his ear. "Wake up, you dumbo!"

It was exactly the kind of thing I'd been trying to avoid by not bringing Taimozou. How stupid. As if the Bounts would know or give a damn about my "no weapon, no hurt" mentality. They only looked at spiritual pressure.

How the frick was I supposed to get myself out of that mess? I couldn't just leave Keigo and make a run for it. I couldn't kid myself in the face of danger. Reality was such a bitch slap, so much harder to handle than fiction.

On top of being a coward, I was selfish. I acted in my own best interest, doing whatever made me the most comfortable and not putting any thought into how it would affect others. But the most twisted part of it was that my choices didn't benefit my own best interest - they were just the easy way out. In the long run, my grave was dug by my own hands. And worse, I took other down with me.

But if I didn't get attached, I didn't have a problem. I didn't have to deal with consequences, good or bad. I was on no side and, in theory, that that gave me no emotional connections.

My theory was obviously whacked, though. My plan failed when absolute apathy proved impossible.

A sort of buzzing interrupted my mind being blown. I snapped my attention away from Keigo and focused on the bugs, who were following that one harbinger's lead and swarming around us.

I raked my brain for some course of action. I had no weapon, no significant combat abilities, and no means of contacting the others.

What I needed was Harry Potter's wand. I needed to wave my arms around and let the magic take care of me.

And, while it was true that I didn't have a wand, I did have the next best thing. Kidou.

I scrambled to my feet, pausing only to wince when Keigo's skull made not-so-soft contact with the asphalt. Shaking the guilt off, I closed my eyes and extended my arms out in front of my chest, right palm flat and left hand gripping my right wrist.

Just like it'd been a good chunk of time since Urahara had trained my physically, it had been a long time since Tessai had gone over the basics of spell casting with me. But there was one chant that I would never forget.

"Hadou 1: Thrust!"

_A ten-year-old-looking me stared at Tessai with a face like a crab. It was only my first kidou lesson, and I was already turned off. _

_"The command is 'thrust'?" I confirmed in question form, crossing my scrawny arms. "Isn't that another word for, like, _hump_?"_

The spell had nothing to do with rhythmic pelvic motions, however. Instead, group of bugs were blasted backwards a half dozen or so yards. It wasn't much, but it was only meant to buy some time to escape or regain your bearings anyway.

I didn't do either. Since there was no way I would have been able to carry Keigo and skedaddle before the allotted time ran out, I just stood there like an idiot and watched as the mob of angry, mutant bees got their wits about them and charged.

Wonderful.

As the crawlies were closing in, my demented mind wondered what would have happened if the "thrust" spell had been more literal, if it worked like an aphrodisiac. That would have been more helpful, I decided.

Sitting back and waiting for pain turned out to be yet another error in my judgment. I had forgotten one key fact: The Bounts and their minions had no interest in me. They were after humans, like the halfway-dead one I was failing to protect. So before I knew it, the creatures had all whizzed right past me and started sucking up Keigo's soul.

It was in that position that Ichigo found us.

"You bastards." The substitute reaper growled, slashing Zangetsu through the winged leeches' stomachs. "Stop it!"

I was somewhat comatose as it all happened. I could see it all going down from where I was rooted, but my brain didn't pin much significance to it. There was an inane weight in the pit of my gut that I would later attribute to guilt. Maybe a little bit of shame, too.

Ichigo was there, and that meant Keigo and I wouldn't die. But I wasn't safe. Ichigo wouldn't let the sight of me standing so casually beside his dying friend roll, after all. Who would?

"Damn it, Mikita." Ichigo seethed with impeccable timing. "Why are you just standing there?"

Why _was_ I just standing there?

There wasn't much room for discussion, because very soon after Ichigo arrived on the scene so did another man. He was burly and unfamiliar and reeked of danger; the unmistakable reiatsu of Bount radiated from him like waves of body odor.

"He's a Bount," a little bird on Ichigo's shoulder, who I'd neglected to notice earlier, verified. I did a double take but managed to limit myself to that. It must have been one of the mod souls Urahara had cooked up.

Ichigo grit his teeth. "Mikita," he ground out, not taking his eyes off the approaching enemy, "take Keigo somewhere safe. Get him out of here while I handle this guy."

I nodded mechanically and shuffled over to Keigo. As Ichigo went to work with the Bount, I kneeled down beside my gutted classmate. How was I supposed to carry the kid? I'd need one of those monster adrenaline rushes that moms who lifted cars off their children felt.

I managed well enough, probably because the situation was a dire one. I lugged Keigo's almost-corpse to the edge of the clearing where the battle was brewing, cringing occasionally when the action got too close for comfort.

It was there where I ran out of places to go. The only exit to the grotto was behind the Bount, and it wasn't like I could swing Keigo all the way over there and just breeze by. At the very least, we were out of the direct line of fire.

It seemed that Bounts favored insects as weapons, because the hulkish man who'd ambushed us used a massive metal ant as a doll. She shot cannon balls out of various body parts, pretty much beating Ichigo to a pulp. Contrary to what he had told me, Ichigo wasn't handling the enemy at all.

With nowhere to go and no aide to lend, I deigned to watch on as Ichigo took hit after hit. And yet, no matter how much pain he took on or how hopeless it seemed, the kid never gave in. I hadn't even tried, but he gave his all. For what?

It was paradoxical, really, for one life to be lost so that another could be saved. Who would do such a thing as sacrifice themselves for someone else, and why? What did that make them? What did that make the people like me who couldn't meet that caliber of selflessness?

Who had the right idea?

Who was better off?

Everyone had to die, but who would die the most content? Which one of them would _live_ the most content?

I wasn't sure about the big picture, but I did know one thing.

I sure as hell wasn't happy, and I probably hadn't ever been. Not really.

* * *

I spent the night on the roof. The Bounts had injured most of the company, and the shouten was serving as a safe haven for everyone who'd found themselves on the Bount's bad side. Physically I was one of the few who was fine, but my head was more messed up than Rasputin's. I hadn't been able to stand being inside with the others, being in sight of the others. I had to escape. To think.

I wondered when, why, and how I had become so self-centered. Why did I let people get hurt? Why did I hurt people and push them away? Why did I try so hard to play it off as if nothing mattered, like I didn't care? I'd played a part criticizing noble behavior and heroic deeds, but what made me so high and mighty?

What if it was me who was wrong? About everything, or most things. The most important things.

I was almost always scared, even if I didn't always realize it myself. Whether the fear was rational or not, it was always there, hiding inside me, surfacing in disguises like sharp words and sedentary choices.

But what exactly was I afraid of? Somehow, I knew that I knew. The answer was in me, lit up like an LED in the core of my chest, but I still did all that I could to look past it. I refused to see it despite its presence. It was avoidance behavior at its ultimate.

My mindset was depressing, really. It made me think about the people who were seriously suicidal and how horrible things must have been to drive them to that point. As grim as it was, I could understand why some people chose to end it all early. Life didn't always seem like it was worth living. Even if you didn't know what was waiting for you on the other side, there were times when it seemed inconceivable that it could be any worse than the place that you already were. Of course, there were those bona fide idiots who offed themselves for the absolute ignoramus of reasons, but there were also people out there who did it for real, because they saw no other options.

But things weren't like that for me. My feelings weren't ever monopolized one way or the other. Was that good or bad? Better or worse?

Maybe Ichigo was more willing to put his life on the line because the big mystery wasn't such a mystery, because he knew what would come next for him on the other side. He knew it wouldn't be so very dark or dangerous in the Soul Society. The Reapers would make it the mission of the century to hunt down his soul and recruit him as a Shinigami, wouldn't they? For Ichigo, barely anything would change. Why would he be afraid to die?

At least with Orihime and the rest the next step - the Soul Society - was certain, even if there was no guarantee where they would end up or if they would meet again.

I didn't know what would happen when I died. What comes after the afterlife?

I wouldn't have to find out if I played it safe and stayed out of trouble. Humans were all destined for death, though. A human's life was already so short and sometimes cut even shorter. A human's existence was so ephemeral that it almost seemed pointless. Then again, if you were one of them, a human, a lifetime would be the longest span you'd ever know. They were naïve. Blissfully.

We couldn't truly relate to and function together, us souls and those humans. We were too different. I'd already learned that.

I'd tried it before, over a hundred years ago, when I was new to the realm and just as bright eyed as the children I tried to blend in with in school. It's worked for a little while, but for me a few years passed like a blink. The classmates I'd let myself love grew up without me. They furthered their education, married, started families, grew old, and passed away. Their lives played out in full in front of me, and all I could do was watch. I was an outsider. That was the way it always would be. I wouldn't fit in, no matter how much I tried. I just wasn't one of them.

Life seemed so pointless once you finished with it. Why did anyone bother with those eighty or so years when you could move on to the Soul Society for an eternity? Why bother protecting that short, meaningless phase?

Whether you died sooner or later, young or old, you still died. Why prolong it? Why save people from something they couldn't truly be saved from? Why should anyone sacrifice their life for another's when it was something we all lost at some point anyway? Why couldn't everyone just take advantage of what they were given, but not be so damn determined to protect it?

I'd been more noble minded once, when I was young. I used to want to fight for something even if I hadn't found that something to fight for. I'd been more like Ichigo once.

A reminder of those times hit me that night. When I was with Keigo, who'd lulled back into consciousness and begged for Ichigo and I to leave him behind and save ourselves; by Izuru, who'd shown up right at the moment of need and allowed all of us to make it home and look forward to another morning.

And by Ichigo, most of all, who'd let his inner Hollow take control as a last, desperate resort.

That kid had demons pressing on him from all conceivable angles, and yet he never gave into them. He was perpetually pushing when it would have been so much easier to lie back. Why? I would never be able to grasp it. Ichigo was too far ahead of me to be properly seen and studied, like an extrasolar body. I was grounded and humbled and staring up at him in ignorant wonder.

If any more milestones had been met after Izuru's rescue, they'd passed straight by me. I'd been unaware of everything outside of my head for the past few hours. My world didn't expand beyond my own mind. I wasn't a part of any community or reality. I couldn't be, not until I'd figured a few things out for myself.

What had happened to me? To my goals and resolutions? I'd gone through some rough patches, sure, but did that justify anything? Other people had been through worse and kept their heads. How had I let myself veer so far off track?

Why hadn't I noticed before? Why hadn't anyone else noticed it and slapped me straight? Why hadn't I let anyone light the spark? Did I rely on the security of a blind eye that much?

Was I just one big let-down for everyone? A joke? A lost cause?

Did they really not care about me at all? Did any one care about me?

Why would someone care about me?

"What are you doing up here?"

I didn't want to be left behind. I wanted to mean something. I didn't want to die and have my memory be buried with me. That ruined the purpose of being alive, didn't it? You were supposed to live on in memory or some crap like that.

But I wanted that crap. I wanted to make a difference.

Didn't I? Isn't that what everyone wanted?

Did that ubiquitous desire make it more like a need? A necessity you couldn't truly go without?

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you."

How was I supposed to do it, though? You didn't become a new person overnight. It was a process. And psychomachia tortured you every step of the way. How did anyone do it? Where did you get that kind of will power?

"What's wrong with you?"

You can't save anyone. Not even yourself. So why bother trying? Why did people always want to defy all odds and achieve the impossible? It was all pointless.

"Are you okay?"

You can't let yourself depend on others because you sooner or later you'll lose them. No matter when, how, or why, you would. And it would hurt.

"Are you… crying?"

Was I? It wasn't raining.

Well, my reputation was ruined. Renji was seeing me cry. I hated crying in front of people. People like Renji. The good kind.

Renji approached me, and I felt myself bristle. My body stiffened up more when Renji tentatively dropped a hand onto my shoulder. Why would he do that?

"It's okay, ya know," Renji said. He didn't sound nearly as out-of-his-element as I would have expected a warrior guy comforting a girl would be. But he was still a warrior guy comforting a girl, so his words were slow and somewhat stiff. "We're all fine. Izuru, Hisagi, Matsumoto and Yumichika are tracking the Bounts now. They'll be gone soon, so you don't have to worry."

Idiot. I wasn't a child. I knew that the good guys didn't always win in real life. What if the Bounts beat all those Reapers? Killed them, even? How could I not worry? How could I not worry and feel anxious when I was sitting at home thinking about them out there?

Renji's fingers clenched into my arm. "Stop it already. This isn't like you. What's going on?"

I didn't know the answer. What was going on? What was wrong with me? Why was it happening right then, at that moment? I hadn't had ever a problem bottling things; why did the glass choose now to shatter? Did those people really mean so much to me? Why did they mean that much to me? Why did I let them? When did I let them?

Renji sighed, a sign of resignation, and squeezed my shoulder again. I was afraid he was about to let go, but he didn't.

It didn't matter why I cared. I just did.

It was the same principle, but in reverse, wasn't it? I had to accept that logic or reason wouldn't stop me from trying to protect anyone from the inevitable. You couldn't control your feelings, because they controlled you. I could wear a veneer of apathy but my core would always be as warm and fuzzy as a freshly baked brownie. I was just a steaming, gooey brown mess inside. I was a sugary baked good, not a piece of crap.

"If something's bothering ya that much then you should do something about it," Renji spoke. Without seeing his expression, I couldn't tell if his tone was stern because he was annoyed or just pushing to make a point. "Don't just sit here sniffling about it and expect anything to get better. No one can help you if you're always distancing yourself, so either let us in or find your own way."

Ah, an ultimatum. An allegorical ultimatum. Impressive. Yet neither of the offered option sounded very tempting. I did have to choose one, though. I was at a crossroad, and continuing straight just wasn't a possibility.

So which would it be?

* * *

Renji's was in soldier mode, his face carved from stone. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but I could have sworn there was a bit of a glow of understanding in his eyes.

The lieutenant sent me a departing nod before heading towards the gate that would bring him to the Soul Society. Ichigo followed in his footsteps, not granting me any sort of acknowledgment. It was to be expected; it was neither surprising nor inspiring that I'd decided to sit out yet another "mission" and let the others embark for the final showdown with the Bounts without me.

"Have fun," I called after the retreating Shinigami, waving with the antithesis of enthusiasm. "I hope you packed plenty of underwear, boys. You'll be gone for at least a few days, and it'd be extremely gross if you never bothered changing your clothes in all that time."

Speaking of that, had Ichigo been wearing the same outfit for all of his last Soul Society visit? Apparently it was replaced each time he went into soul mode, but he never left soul mode in the Soul Society. What had happened to the shredded shihakushous after battle, and where would he have gotten new ones from? How did they replace themselves when he went in and out of soul mode anyway? Questions that needed answers.

"Kame-Chan, are you sure you don't want to come?" Orihime ventured, stepping closer to me rather than the portal. I wasn't sure why she was going, to be perfectly honest, but I guessed any willing hand was a welcomed hand.

"Yup, I'm sure," I asserted, crossing my arms over my chest and staring directly ahead of me at absolutely nothing. "No way, no how. I'm not saving the day anytime soon."

Orihime's mood down turned, but I didn't falter.

"Let's go, Orihime," Uryuu called from the portal, standing aside with Chad while waiting for her to catch up. Orihime snapped back into action, sent me one last glance, then hurried over to join the rest of the crew.

I sighed once they had all passed through the gate and it began to close up, looking on with a soupcon of barely-there-at-all longing.

"Last chance," a male said from behind me. "You can still run in if you want to."

I snorted and sent Urahara a dull glare from the corner of my eye. "Yeah, right."

The older guy shrugged and put on a smirk as the gate dematerialized. "Fine then. It's not like the others are missing out. You would probably just get in the way at this point."

I scowled. He chuckled.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Urahara said once he was done poking his fun at me. He twirled around and made for the exit, leaving me alone in the training room.

I took the time to take in the emptiness. It made me feel so small, but at the same time there was still so much available to me at my fingertips.

I sucked up a deep breath and let it batter my lips on the way out. After a split second of hesitance, I glided over to the nearest boulder. The object I'd stashed was still tucked behind the rock, so I snatched it up and brushed off any dirt-dust.

"Well, this is it, buddy," I told Taimozou, sliding my fingers across his rounded blade. "You ready?"

My zanpakutou harrumphed, his voice tired and unused. '_Did I hear that right?_ _You, the cowardly wonder, are actually going to train with me?_'

I took in another deep breath and flicked off the last pebble from Taimozou's hilt. "Yeah, well, it's about time, isn't it? I'm not promising anything spectacular, but I might as well take a crack at this savior thing. It obviously comes in handy."

I still didn't want to be like Ichigo. I didn't want the all the responsibility and expectation.

But I was willing to take some of that responsibility and expectation away from him. I was willing to do my part.

Like it or not, I was involved. I was a Soul Reaper.

I needed to start acting like it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Once again, I apologize for the empty promises I always seem to make when it comes to writing these days. Every little bit of encouragement inspires me to get working, true, but I also tend to run out of steam just as easily. The usual excuses are to blame: real-life obligations like school and work; pure lack of brain power; my own negligence when I don't save what work I have done and/or misplace the device it's saved on and end up losing the progress I've made. Which happens WAY TOO OFTEN. I'm sorry if the re-written chapters are choppy and unfeeling because of this last point, because I always feel like they are.  
**

**But I keep saying that I won't give up on this story, and I will keep saying that. _I won't give up on this story_. As long as there are still readers willing to stick it out with me and nudge me along, I will keep the ball rolling. (Even if the ball's made out of, like, neuron star matter and I play pinball with it rather than bowl).** **So, with that being said, I want to take a moment to give a nod to this chapter's cheerleaders: bioniclemon,Valerie Michaelis, and last but certainly not least, .  
**

**Seriously. Thank you, guys. 3**


	21. Chapter 21

***=On the Crossing to Choose=***

**Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

I wasn't about to pretend it wasn't flattering. I mean, it hadn't exactly been my intention, and I wasn't sure if it was a ubiquitous compliment or not, but the fact that people were noticing meant something, right? There was a pay off for my slaving.

Tatsuki poked at my thigh again. The skin was in plain sight what with us being in school and in our uniforms and all. I didn't mind her doing it much, but I kept a wary eye out for Chizuru in case she got any funny ideas.

"Seriously," the martial artist said, "what did you do over the summer? You must have gained five pounds of muscle, at least."

"Huh?" I blinked, taking a leaf out of Orihime's book and playing Dumbolina. "You think I gained weight?"

"Not weight - _muscle_."

"But muscle is more dense than fat, so if you're telling me I gained five pounds of muscle you're really trying to tell me I gained ten pounds of fat. Tatsuki, you're so cruel. It's not my fault that food is my only true friend."

Apparently I wasn't half as accomplished with faking depression as I was with making amazing jokes. Tatsuki just snorted and went back to "paying attention" to Ochi-Sensei.

The teacher was mumbling something or other about a transfer student. Like I would be excited about a new kid when I was looking forward to showing Ichigo how good I had gotten with Taimozou. The results Tatsuki was awing over were from the training I had pushed through, and my new physique certainly wasn't just for show.

In other news, the Bounts had officially joined the dinosaurs in extinction. La dee da. The good guys had won. What an upset.

But in all seriousness, all was well. Everyone had come back in one piece minus Rukia and Renji, who hadn't come back at all. I was pretty bummed about it but should have known they would stick around the Soul Society for a while once their original mission was accomplished. I would have to wait until Renji's next Earth-bound assignment to show off my skills. That turkey wouldn't be able to stay away for too long. Who could resist Mikita Kame, after all?

Besides owing him a few bruises, I guess Renji deserved a thanks from me, too. If it hadn't been for him I probably would have never made any progress at all. Who knowns what would of happened if I'd just been left alone to drown? No one could really live like that for long. Even if Renji hadn't done anything spectacular, he'd done just enough to make a difference.

Another thing that was more interesting than the new student that morning was the meowing coming from Ichigo. Judging by the way he was holding that silly little skull badge of his I assumed the sound was a Hollow alert. (Why it meowed was beyond me. Or maybe it wasn't a meow at all, but the warrior cry of a barricuda).

I merely watched from my seat as the Ichigo, Orihime, and Chad rushed out of the room, making some floppy excuse about going to the bathroom. The thought of following them didn't cross my mind.

The time would come for me to unveil my mighty moves. I wouldn't go looking for the opportunity, because the opportunity would find me. Besides, I couldn't miss out on the fine education that was being offered just to indulge my own ego.

I gazed out the window, looking on as a little stick-figured, orange-headed, not-quite Soul Reaper sprinted across the grass in pursuit of his game. He was such a dork, that Itchy-bum. I had gained some kind of grudging respect for him over the past few weeks, though. I mean, he had reached bankai at an all-time record time. He'd done everything in an all-time record time, actually. My feats seemed so puny compared to his. Damn him for stifling my thunder.

"Hey, Mikita? Are you seeing that, too?"

My gaze frittered over to the speaker, Tatsuki, who was gaping out the window like she had seen a ghost.

Or a little stick-figured, orange-headed, not-quite Soul Reaper.

I showed Tatsuki a raised eyebrow. "Seeing what?"

I really couldn't be shocked. Between her relations with Ichigo, Orihime and I, Tatsuki was bound to be sensitive to spirits. Especially when it came to Ichigo. That kid spread around his reiatsu like it was H1N1. Give it another generation and the whole town would be seeing ghosts.

Tatsuki frowned and drilled the retreating Ichigo with her stare. After another second or two she tore her eyes away from the glass and faced her desktop. "Nothing. Forget it."

"If you say so."

Should I have been worried? Any other person might have been, but somehow all the dysfunction just seemed normal to me. Inevitable, even.

It was hard to believe it'd only been a couple weeks since the Bounts had been running around Karakura. That all seemed like ages ago, like another lifetime. As hackneyed as it was to say, I'd been a different person then. I was still me, but I could feel a change. I felt stronger, physically and mentally. I felt more in control. I felt good.

That didn't mean I was about to go and hand out cupcakes to homeless penguins, of course. But it did mean I wasn't able to look Keigo in the eye and had been shirking away from him all morning. I wondered when I would be able to ease into a friendship with him again and what I would need to do to get there. How could I get rid of the guilt?

I'd grown, but there was still a long way to go. Looking ahead make me anxious.

"Kame! If you don't start paying attention I'm going to gauge out your eyes and put them on my desk so that I'll be the only thing you focus on!"

An era of silence took over the classroom.

"Ew…"

"That was awfully graphic."

"What an imagination!"

"Ochi-sensei, would you really do something like that?"

The pedagogue grinned. "Do you want to test me?"

It was no wonder why that woman was single.

* * *

There was something off about the new kid, that Shinji Hirako, that I couldn't put my finger on. I mean, sure he wrote his name backwards and thought he was cool for it, but the fact that he was an odd duck wasn't the only thing.

Maybe it was the added creeper characteristics, since Hirako'd openly asked to sit by a pretty girl. (And he hadn't had a problem flirting with Ichigo when they were seated together either.)

Bottom line, there was a strange, static-y feel to Hirako. I just couldn't tell if it was repulsive or nostalgic.

It was probably the likeliest choice, I decided, that I knew one of his ancestors. I mean, I couldn't assume everything was related to the supernatural. I wasn't getting the whizzies in my gut, after all, and sensing reishi was a specialty of mine. Hirako was normal until proven otherwise.

Normal in the non-ghostly sense, of course, because the kid was kind of a freak by human standards.

However, I was trying to be more of a humanitarian. And what kind of humanitarian would I be if I let the mentally messed up new kid eat alone at lunch? A horrible one! So, out of the kindness of my heart, I stayed alone with him in the classroom, leaving dozens of others disappointed as they drudged out of the room without my company.

Or something like that.

"Hey, Mikita, you coming?" Tatsuki hollered from the door. I eyed her dully from my seat, sliding my gaze first to her left, where Chizuru was trying to run her fingers through a sneering Ryo's long, black locks, and then to her right. Orihime met my stare timidly, the smallest of smiles curling onto her lips.

"No thanks," I said, tweaking my nose. "I'm gonna stay here, if that's okay."

"Whatever." Tatsuki shrugged. She grasped Orihime's wrist and tugged the girl along. Orihime resisted for a fraction of a second to send me a glance before following.

I hadn't actually spoken to Orihime - or any of the others from the Soul League, for that matter - since they had returned from the Soul Society. It was awkward, you know? Like, was I supposed to waltz up to them, tell them I'd changed and expect them to find me worthy all of a sudden? It wouldn't be that easy. I would have to wait for the chance to _show_ that I'd changed and let them decide for themselves what they thought of me.

Once the classroom had emptied out, only the new kid and I were left. I got the feeling that he knew I had hung back for him, so rather than prolong the suspense I pulled myself to my feet and sauntered over to his desk. Supporting my suspicion, his eyes followed me as I approached, a leering grin in place on his face.

"Hello there," Hirako greeted, sending an involuntary chill down my spine. I tried not to be so weirded out, since he was being nothing but polite. (Well, and creepy.)

"Hey," I shot back, shifting on my feet. I wasn't sure why, but I put an extra effort into masking my spiritual pressure. "How's it goin'? You're the new kid, right?"

Duh. We both knew that I knew he was new. It was just one of those lame segways that you couldn't help but use in that kind of situation.

"Yes, that's me," the boy nearly sang, propping his cheek up on his hand. "My name's Shinji Hirako. And you are?"

"Mikita Kame. You've probably heard of me. I'm kind of a big deal."

"No, I'm afraid not," the blond-bob rocker said, his tone cascading as if he were humoring me. The nerve. "But I suppose I should feel honored to be in your presence then. You are really cute, now that I'm getting a good look at you."

And when he did get a good look at me, his expression turned contemplative. The smile slipped from his face and his eyes sharpened. Again, a sense of déjà vu hit me. Or maybe I hit it. I was like a bug to a bright light. I knew the guy was trouble but I couldn't bring myself to leave it alone.

Hirako's stare was like crystal. "Mikita Kame, did you say?"

I nodded. Had I had a goofy look on my face when I spaced out? Probably, for sure.

Hirako's mouth set into a firm line. I furrowed my brow, but before my reaction could go much further than that Hirako's teeth were taking up half of his cheeks again. His eyes were hooded by the shadow of his bangs.

He was like that damned Cheshire Cat, smiling all wide, being all shifty, and weaving in and out of my perception. And we all know how much I hated cats, that one in particular.

"Well," Shinji gushed, his mood as bright as a bulb out of nowhere. It was all fake, though, since the tension coming off of him was all kinds of dark. "It was a great pleasure meeting you, Miss Mikita. Thank you for taking the time to greet me, but I'm afraid that our friendship will have to end here."

It took me a second to process. Hirako'd said it so easily that I almost thought I'd misheard him. But his expression, when he lifted his chin to show it to me, didn't lie.

Before I had the chance to figure out how to respond the bell had wrung, signaling the end of our eating period. (Why had it seemed so short?). As the other students came trickling in I stood rooted, slack jawed and staring. Hirako's caramelized orbs were like glass, giving away no secrets.

"Have a nice day, Miss Mikita," Hirako told me, pointedly.

Okay, verdict on the transfer student: officially someone to watch out for.

Typical. That was what I got for trying to be friendly.

* * *

"I thought I told you guys to shut up! I'm trying to read."

"Oh, Ririn, do lighten up. We aren't even being that loud!'

"You're being loud enough to annoy me."

"Always so irritable..."

I watched the exchange as I gulped down some water, wondering why I bothered being social when people only tended to annoy me. Although, the two in front of me weren't people, technically. But Kurodo and Ririn were still about as peeve-ish as they came.

On the other hand, there was Nova.

"Let's go play outside, Nova," I told the turtle plushy. He really didn't have any say in the matter, being a stuffed animal. He was also the silent type, which I liked. And what I liked even more was his gigai, as little as I had seen of it. I'd been a little miffed with the idea of three additional housemates in the beginning, but having Nova hang around in his full form wasn't something I would complained about.

"Oh," Kurodo said with a pout, his bunny-ears drooping, "why does Mikita seem to favor Nova so much? She never wants to spend any time alone with us, Ririn! I bet she only likes Nova because he's a turtle. Kindred spirits stick together, after all!"

"Or maybe she likes him 'cause he knows when to shut up."

I ignored them both, holding my hand out to Nova so he could hop on and shimmy up to my shoulder. Mod Souls were the ultimate accessories this season.

I wandered down the hallway afterwards without any real plan in mind. Since I'd already suggested it, I headed outside. A nighttime walk was always nice.

Plus there was an unfamiliar aura in the air. Urahara was would be out there trying to figure it out, I bet.

And he was.

I approached Urahara from behind. "What are the stars telling you?"

Urahara smiled wryly and kept his eyes skyward as if he really was receiving a message. I stepped up to his side, mindful of maintaining a certain distance.

"I'm not very good at astronomy," the ex-captain told me. "I think you should check for yourself. A fresh pair of eyes might help."

I knew he wasn't actually suggesting I star gaze, so my defenses reared. "Ha, ah, no. Nope, I don't think that's gonna happen. Ask Ichigo, he's out there already."

And then Urahara looked at me. Like _that_. That look that said he knew perfectly well what was out there but wasn't going to say. It was up to us meddling kids and our stupid stuffed animals.

A rattling sigh left me. "Fine. Sure. If you say so."

Yeah, that's right. I agreed to it. Wanna know why? Because being bored made you do things like take walks in ghost infested towns just because there was nothing better to do.

Urahara raised a brow. "Oh? Are you bringing Nova, too?"

I blinked and glanced at the little guy the best that I could while he was perched on my shoulder. Nova shrugged (I think) so I took that as a sign that he was game. My kind of fella.

"Why not?" I stepped back and prepared to veer off. "He's good company. Basically just sits there. I can talk to myself without really talking to myself."

"That does sound handy."

"Yup."

Those were the last words exchanged before I was out of inside voice ear shot. Soon enough I'd gotten out of eye sight, too.

"Sigh," I said as I ground my feet into the gravel a little harder than necessary. I liked the crunchy sound. "Do you have any idea what's going on, Nova?"

"No."

"Okay then."

Scratch that plan. Now that the Bounts were gone the Mod Souls weren't much help, were they? Why would Urahara keep them around? I sort of thought he would just deprogram them or whatever. He must have caught some of that humanitarian syndrome I was carrying. Ichigo had a way of infecting people like that.

And speaking of Ichigo, he approacheth.

"Hey, Orange," I called out. Ichigo was coming at me straight on and gaining quickly, his ankles up to his neck as he sprinted. It wasn't like him, really, to be quite that dorky. "Where's the fire?"

As soon as Ichigo realized I was talking to him he faltered, skidding to a halt a little ways away and gawking. I made a face. What was wrong with him?

"Uh…" Ichigo gurgled, looking panicked. He cleared his throat and, obviously deepening his tone, said, "hey."

Yeah, "hey." Not normally so aberrant, but completely un-Ichigo-like when it wasn't accompanied by a scowl. I'd only ever seen Ichigo's eyes that wide when someone was talking about sex.

"You're," I spoke slowly, tilting my head to the side, "not Ichigo, are you?"

"That's Kon," Nova said plainly. "He's another Mod Soul."

"Ah, that explains it."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Ichigo's body protested. "You totally ruined my aloof approach!"

Kon's natural pitch proved to be much higher than Ichigo's, which made the picture even more bizarre when he put on a melodramatic pout. "But since you know I'm not actually Ichigo..."

I didn't have much time to react before something plowed into me head-on. Even though I was being tackled, I wasn't so concerned with who had slammed into me. Instead, my senses went on high-alert, trying to pick up on any nearby Hollows or malicious spiritual pressure.

There was none, which left me confused for all of three seconds. That was when I became aware of the lips on my collar bone and the fingers fondling my left breast.

"I remember you now. You're the girl from that night," Kon muttered into my skin. "I can't believe Ichigo knows so many bodacious babes. And he doesn't even taken advantage of his connections. What a loser!"

I was frozen stiff. It was like an out of body experience. Even though I knew something completely wrong was going on, it didn't really connect that I was the target of it.

"Oh, such lovely mounds," Kon moaned in delight. I could feel the vibration of his hum on me, and it triggered a shiver of my own. "It's been so long since I've been able to enjoy a pair!"

And with those words reality hit me full force. I didn't really plan an attack; I just snapped, clawed at Kon's hair, and used my other arm to punch at any part of him I could reach.

"Get. Off. Me. You. Greasy. Troll." I snarled with every hit.

Kon yelped and tried to recoil, but I was still anchoring him by the scalp. "Watch it, lady! I'm not supposed to get this body hurt."

"Save me, Nova! Rape! _Rape_!"

"No, don't scream that. Ichigo will kill me if I get his body arrested!"

"I'll kill you first if you don't get up."

"Okay, okay! I'm goin'."

True to his word, Kon yanked free from my grip and hauled himself off me. He scurried a good distance away as I sat up, my breathing heavy and eyes wide. I felt so violated. Probably because I had been violated.

There was a short lull that I used to I recover before Kon spoke up.

"Who are ya anyway, lady? How do you fit in with Ichigo and all this?" Kon asked, watching me from his frog-squat position. The turd had the audacity to act like nothing had happened. No wonder Ichigo was such a spaz sometimes, considering the kind of characters he let take over his body while his soul was away.

"My names Mikita and that's all I'm saying," I told Kon with a grimace, not even really wanting to tell him that much. "But I am looking for Ichigo, actually. The real Ichigo. Where is he?"

"Don't know, don't care," Kon chirped. "He went out for some Soul Reaper business, and I went out for some fun. When the boss is away, Kon will play! Better lock up the ladies 'cause I'm-"

"Look out!"

I took a leaf from Kon's book and lunging forward, knocking him onto his back just as a streak of blue blew apart the pavement. I stayed curled over him until the smoke cleared.

"What the hell was that?" I said once we could see, moving off to the side.

"No idea," Kon muttered, sitting up again and squinting towards the sky.

Once I looked around, it wasn't very hard to find the culprit. Kon must have had some good ghoul sense, because a massive gorilla-ish figure was floating in the air above us.

"It couldn't be," the mod soul said in awe. There was something about Kon's reaction that got me extra unsettled, and I glanced back and forth between him and the creature for a hint.

"What?" I fired. "What is that thing? You know him?"

Apparently.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," the masked menace rumbled. "I hope you didn't forget me."

Kon began to quake. After a few more urges from me, he managed to stutter out, "G-Grand Fisher?!"

Knowing the Hollow's name didn't really help me, but knowing that Kon knew the Hollow's name - and that the Hollow was familiar with Ichigo's body and name, more importantly - wasn't cool. A Hollow that could go around talking about Ichigo meant that Ichigo hadn't been able to defeat it. If it were the real Ichigo I was with I would have assumed the meeting had taken place in the past and I wouldn't have needed to be so worried about the present, but that wasn't the case. Even though Ichigo was beside me in the corporeal sense, his powers were off somewhere with his soul.

So basically it was up to me to fill the role of superhero.

I lept to my feet and into position for one killer kidou spell. "Bakudou 61: Six Truncheon Light Prison!"

The spell did something like encase the target inside a trap of concentrated reiatsu, but I didn't stick around to see it for myself. As soon as I had done my job I grabbed Kon's wrist and hauled him with me away from the scene.

"Why are we running?" Kon questioned in a scream. Ichigo's long legs made us switch places almost as soon as we got started, with him in the lead and me tagging along. "Aren't you a Shinigami? Why don't you kill that thing?"

"I'm not much of a fighter," I replied with a huff. "I can cast a few fancy spells but they won't do much lasting damage to that buffalo. If worse comes to worse I'll see what I can do, but until then I'm more confident in my ability to retreat."

"I hear ya, sister."

Kon and I sprinted around a corner, and I waited until we we back on a straight, stable path before resuming the conversation. "Who is that guy anyway? How do you know him?"

"Grand Fisher," Kon told me, still yelling. Vocal volume was admittedly hard to control when you were all scared and stuff, so I cut him some slack. "He's a Hollow we ran into a while back. But I thought Ichigo had taken care of him then."

And the plot thickens.

It wasn't too long until Grand Fisher broke out of my spell, as expected. He was a big sucker, so much so that I wondered about his standing as a Hollow. The reiatsu coming off him was all wrong, too. Something I'd never felt before.

Back when I'd gotten decent look at him, there was something even freakier that I'd noticed on top of it. Grand Fisher had a face. Underneath the Hollow mask was skin, eyes, a nose. Like a human; like a hybrid. I didn't know what that could mean other than it couldn't be good.

Kon used some kind of pumping power to leap from roof to roof, letting out a Tarzan call with each jump. I could barely help myself from flailing behind him like a rag doll.

"Stop chasing us," Kon implored. "We aren't the ones you're looking for."

The Hollow's voice was a rumbling growl. "Ichigo Kurosaki, you cannot fool me. Stop running and face me."

"Mikita," Kon tried next, shooting me a frazzled look. "Do something!"

My jaw set. "Fine."

And so I dug my heels into the ground and turned to take of the mutant.

Oh yeah. My time had arrived.

I reached down to grab Taimozou. I missed, so I tried again. I still didn't get a hold of him, so I looked down.

Taimozou wasn't there. Because I didn't bring him. Figures.

"Are you kidding me?" I cried, incredulous. "I didn't even do it on purpose this time. I was really going to help."

"What's wrong?" Kon questioned, flexing his fists. "Hurry it up, he's gaining on us."

"Change of plans," I said with a wince. "We run again."

I took the initiative to lead the way. Kon followed soon after.

"Aw, you're no Shinigami at all!"

"Yeah, yeah, we're a pair of losers. Now let's go."

And go we did: straight down when Grand Fisher made his move and blasted the floor from beneath us.

I shrieked in a most undignified manner, curling myself into Ichigo's chest. Maybe it was a different soul inside, but that bod was still the same. That sleek, firm bod. It wasn't the worst way to go, cuddling up to Ichigo's abs. I girl could die contently with that.

* * *

"I can't believe I forgot you back there. Kon kind of commanded my attention. He's like a second Keigo, I swear. I guess it worked out though, huh? Thanks for rescuing us, Nova."

"It's fine."

And he was fine, too, that Nova. Have you seen those eyes? His only imperfection was that horrid sense of fashion.

"Come on," Ririn said, taking control of the situation. We were still in the middle of a situation with the Grand Fisher, by the way. It turns out that the three mod souls, who joined up with Kon and I in the middle of our free-fall, actually had some pretty sick abilities. "I have a plan to take care of this guy."

Ririn's plan involved more running, but also more productivity. The girl created an illusion to fool the Fisher while Kurodo took on Ichigo's image. It was more than I'd managed to do, but it still didn't work.

Being the target, Kon then took it upon himself to take off on his own and steer the danger away from the rest of us. Or maybe he was just fleeing to save his own butt. I wasn't entirely convinced.

Whatever the reason, it was Papa Kurosaki popping up and disposing of the Hollow that left us all in the clear.

All in all, the night was full of shockers. Urahara showed up and started chatting it up with the eldest Kurosaki like they were old drinking buddies. I couldn't exactly tune in to the intimate details of their conversation since I was so thrown off by the turn of events.

Since when was Ichigo's dad a Soul Reaper? And if he was a Reaper, why wasn't he in the Soul Society? Why was he wearing a captain's robe? Were he and Urahara in cahoots? Did Ichigo know? How many licks did it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?

The world may never know.

Ichigo's name was brought up between the two men, and it was then that I was redirected from my own thoughts and became receptive to theirs.

"While we're on the subject of your son, have you noticed…?"

Isshin's features leveled out into solid lines. "Yes. It appears they've made contact with him, just as you suspected they would. The masked army, the Vizards."

Vizards? I'd never heard of them. But if they had supposedly sought out Ichigo, I guess it would make them that week's Bounts. They had to be the antagonist. We never seemed to last long without one.

Besides, Isshin had called the Vizards a masked army. That didn't sound affectionate to me. Maybe that Grand Fisher guy had been one of them, a Vizared.

Fortunately for me, I wasn't left to speculate.

"They're a lawless gang of former Soul Reapers who attempted to gain Hollow powers through the use of forbidden techniques," the doctor-by-day relayed. "Their names and whereabouts are unknown. They've kept their presence completely hidden. They're obviously dangerous."

We agreed on that level, it seemed. But something about the story seemed familiar to me. Soul Reapers that gained Hollow powers? Why? If it was a voluntary move then they must be a sadistic bunch bent on ultimate strength, but what if it wasn't their choice?

With my expression pinched, I sent Urahara a pointed stare. His bucket hat cast a shadow over his face.

Isshin spoke again. "The only thing I do know is that the Arrancar and Vizards don't seem to be working together."

"That's hopeful," the blond finally voiced, his tone austere. "We don't need our enemies forming alliances. In one way, we're lucky. The Vizards don't trust any Soul Reapers, former or otherwise."

Says the former Soul Reaper who seems to know entirely too much.

"So I've heard."

And where would Papa Kurosaki have hear that?

"But in spite of their hatred towards Soul Reapers," Urahara went on, " they still made contact with your son, which means that-"

"Yeah."

I knew better than to interrupt, so I scrambled with the pieces and fit them together for myself. So these Vizards had ambushed Ichigo? What did that mean? Urahara and Mr. Kurosaki didn't sound concerned in the sense that Ichigo had been hurt. Besides, "made contact" didn't sound like a physical fight. It sounded like someone reaching out, extending an offer, asking for help. Something like that.

And so it clicked. Reapers that developed the abilities of a Hollow? That was Ichigo. Ichigo was a Vizard, and the Vizards wanted to claim him for themselves.

Good luck with that one, guys.

"If they're willing to go to those lengths than they must be preparing for some type of battle, just like we are."

We were? Against who?

"The only explanation is that they must have noticed the sudden change in the Arrancar as well."

"So that last Hollow…"

I wasn't sure if I was meant to be overhearing or if it was just eavesdropping, but I didn't care. I soaked it all up.

Both Urahara and Mr. Kurosaki agreed that the rouge captain, Aizen, was lurking somewhere in Hueco Mundo making prototypes, making creatures for his control. He was the one who'd made the Vizards out of his own comrades and framed Urahara for the crime. I honestly didn't remember what the guy looked like from the one time we'd crossed paths, but it was scary to think I'd once met him. I could only imagine pitch forks and pointed teeth, looking back.

I had somehow missed the fact that a war was brewing between Aizen and the Soul Society, but I learned about it that night, and I didn't know what to make of it. A war was extreme. My friends were going to be fighting in a multi-dimensional _war_. Was I supposed to fight in a multi-dimensional war? I wasn't ready for that. Were _they_ ready for that?

My mind was buzzing even after we parted ways with Papa Kurosaki. There were more questions than answers inside me, but for once I wanted to try to smooth things out for myself rather than get on Urahara's case. There were more important things going on than me.

Instead, I went to bed.

Sleep was a tease.

* * *

The arrival of morning was sort of a relief since it meant I didn't have to flop around in bed anymore. I got ready and moseyed off to school earlier than ever before.

I wasn't sure whether it was the lighting or what, but the world seemed warped. Not all together bad, but just _off_. I didn't really know what to attribute that feeling to and chose not to fling the blame on anything in particular.

I wasn't exactly a chatter box to begin with, but I consciously kept to myself in the time before lessons started. No one seemed to notice, but I took note of Ichigo being just as quiet and self-ostracized.

Hirako showed up ahead of time, too, in the same spiffy spirits he'd been in the day before. His mood swings probably wouldn't have bothered me much if he hadn't made a bee-line to cozy up to Orihime. Okay, so my boobs didn't account for half of my body weight, but that was no reason to blow someone off when they extended hospitality. What was that guy's problem?

Apparently Ichigo wondered something the same since he practically pounced on Hirako and dragged him out of the room.

Ichigo may have been an impulsive, volatile guy, but he didn't make it a point to beat strangers unless they asked for it. Those two must have been a little more than acquaintances. And since I doubted they'd buddied up in the few spare minutes they'd chatted in school, they must have met some time after.

It might have been a stretch, but I put two and two together. Ichigo had issues with Hirako, Hirako had issues with me: Shinji was one of those wizards with a V.

I had a thought to confront one of the boys about it, but for once it might have actually been for the best to mind my own business. The Vizards didn't seem to be an immediate danger to the Reapers, and the beef between them and Ichigo was between them and Ichigo. It wasn't my problem.

Still, I was curious. And maybe a tiny bit concerned. But if I knew one thing, it was that Ichigo's demons tended to extend beyond his control at some point no matter how hard he tried to keep them to himself. I only had to wait for it to break.

* * *

"So they beat Ichigo?"

Yoruichi faltered on her avaricious eating long enough to send me a glance. "Yeah."

"Bad?"

"Yeah."

Ignoring the fact that a classy gal like Yoruichi had both planted her naked butt at the table and was stuffing her face so shamelessly, I mulled over the situation.

It had started, then. The Arrancar had made their move. Ichigo and the others would have been goners if Yoruichi and Urahara hadn't shown up at the jumping grounds. Even the Wonder Boy had got his ass handed to him on a platter. That wasn't a pleasant thought from an angle. Shit had just turned real.

We needed Rukia, I realized. We needed Ichigo back, so we needed Rukia back. When Ichigo got pummeled physically, he needed an emotional pummeling to get him back on track, otherwise he'd wallow in his failure. Rukia was the only person who could snap him out of that kind of funk, but she was a million miles away.

I was sure that she wouldn't be away for too much longer, though. I could feel it.

Or I was at least really hoping.


	22. Chapter 22

**On the Crossing to Choose**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Beta-ed by: TogetherAtLast

* * *

"Guess who's back, back, back. Back again, 'gain, 'gain. Renji's back, back, back. Tell a friend, friend, friend…"

The red-head in question grew a few tick marks, but remained silent. I smiled merrily, crossing my legs from my position lounging on the roof top beside him. Man, did I call this one or what? It had only been a few DAYS and Renji was already here! It was one of those Kodak moments, really, when I opened the door and saw him standing there all sheepish, wanting a place to stay. As if we would turn him down. He looked so cute in the school uniform!

Giggling a bit, which in itself was pretty unlike me, I turned to face our returned ward, positively beaming. I wasn't sure why, exactly, I was so delighted to have him here when it hadn't been that long since he had left, but I wasn't about to deny that I was happy as a clam.

"What're you sniggering about?" Renji scowled, eyeing me suspiciously. He wasn't nearly as content as I was, but I was glad that he had agreed to come up here with me in the first place. I'd found that I quite liked the roof; it was a nice place to come and think in peace.

My grin widened. "I'm not sniggering. I'm expressing my delight. It's good to have ya back, Shichi."

His cheeks, predictably, pinked at the confession. He was a sensitive guy, wasn't he? You'd think that with looks like his he'd be all macho all the time, but when it came to anything besides kicking ass he was so… fragile. It made me want to pinch him. Hard. Until he bled. And begged for mercy.

Wait, that was weird, wasn't it?

"Psh," he snorted, trying to cover up his not-so-cool reaction, "you're even more of a freak than I remember."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't try to tell me that you didn't miss me."

"I didn't."

"I said don't try to tell me. You did."

"I didn't!"

"You're lying."

"I'm not!"

"You missed me, just like you missed the shop and busting hollows and this big, beautiful, green sky!"

"I did nah - green? Whaddya mean green? The sky's blue!"

I scoffed obnoxiously, reaching out to pat Renji's knee. "Ha ha, good one!"

His features twisted into bona fide confusion, something I took great pride in. He was honestly taking the bait. "Wait, I don't get it," he said, casting a glance upwards, as if needing to confirm that his eyes weren't seeing any viridescences up there."What d'ya mean the sky's green? It looks blue to me."

I made a show of blinking widely, trying to look as puzzled as possible. "Huh? You're serious? Well…" -I bit my lip in thought- "…I guess it must be blue in the Soul Society, right?"

He nodded, egging me on. What an idiot. "Well, it must depend on where you are. Like, the Soul Society sees the sky from a different angle, making it seem blue. But from the Human World, all of the molecules shifting with the weather currents and reflecting the Earth's surface give it a greenish tinge. You probably just don't notice it yet since you're so used to another view. Maybe if you hang around long enough you'll see it like normal."

Renji seemed to have extreme difficulty processing this information, but he was willing to try. Brows screwed up, he nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense…"

And that was when I lost it. "Dumbass."

It seemed to click for him, too, that I was yanking his leg. "You little -"

"Don't blame me. You're the one who fell for it."

But it seemed that he did blame me, despite his own idiocy being at fault. He chose to express those ill feelings by pouncing on top of me. Normally I wouldn't think of this as a true punishment, but when one of his arms wrapped around my shoulders and his other fist dug into my scalp I did have a problem with it.

"Get off me, you heifer!"

"No way!"

"Oh, gee, you're a tough guy now, huh? Beating up an innocent girl!"

"You're may be a girl but you're nowhere near innocent!"

"Jerk!"

"Brat!"

"Turkey!"

"Argh, uh, twerp!"

"Bad bad name caller-er!"

"I really want to kill you right now…"

"Bring it on!"

Tough talk from a girl who was folded under him and at his complete mercy, I know. Apparently thinking along those same lines, Renji released me and slowly pulled back, laying along the shingles. I bolted into a seated position, frantically attempting to tame my hair. With the task done as good as I could get it I took a deep breath, snapping my head to the Shinigami with a furious glare. It softened almost instantly, though, when I saw how pensive he was while looking up at the clouds. Sighing, I joined him the world of horizontal sky gazing.

A beat passed in silence. "So," he spoke gruffly. "How are…things?"

By "things," I knew he meant me. Because he had been the one who found me in almost this very same spot, bawling like a baby. Well, maybe not exactly, but I might as well have been. Either way he was the one who got some of the story out of me. The only one. It was strange thinking about it like that. I mean, we were bonded, sort of. I wasn't sure if I liked the feeling yet.

"Things are okay."

I was determined not to make this awkward. And if it had to be awkward, it would be a one-sided thing where I said something obscene that made only him uncomfortable. I would remain strong and dominate!

"That's… good."

Man, he really sucked at this kind of thing. The kid was as smooth as sandpaper.

"Yep." And so, my plan must go into action, as he was failing miserably with keeping the mood light. "Do you want to be spanked?"

Oh, would you look at that. He was red. Who would have thought that such an unexpected thing would happen? "W-WHAT ARE YOU SAYIN' THAT FOR?!"

"It was just a question. No need to take it out of proportion."

"I'm not takin' it out of proportion! That's not the kind a' question you just ask for the hell of it!"

"Oh, it's not? Huh. Well, I've learned my lesson for the day."

Smirking lightly, I faced my companion once more. His amusement was on an entirely different scale than mine. "So, you hungry? Let's go get some dinner."

Grumbling, Renji pulled himself up. "I don't wanna go anywhere with you."

"Lighten up," I said, rolling my eyes. "It was only a joke."

"It wasn't funny!"

"I laughed."

"Psheh."

Needless to say, he followed me inside for food regardless. He never did answer me, either. It was a shame - I honestly wanted to know if he was into that kind of thing.

A reunion with Mikita was never boring. Remember that always.

* * *

It had happened so fast I wasn't able to catch up with it all until I was already outside with Taimozou in my hand. I guess I should have suspected something when Renji remained so lost in thought for the rest of the evening, but then again it's not like _he_ could have known either. He hadn't known the Arrancar would show up now, tonight, did he? It was so soon. I was having a little bit of trouble coping with it myself. But there he was, in all his flowing, blond-haired glory. Making a fool out of dear Renji, don't 'cha know. I mean, the guy was even in his bankai already and it wasn't having much of an effect.

"I thought he would be a lot more awesome than this," I voiced, scratching my neck in disappointment. "I mean, aren't the good guys supposed to be _good_? He's totally losing and the enemy's barely trying at all…"

"You've got a point for once," Jinta commented from beside me on my beloved roof, sounding just as anti-thrilled. "He's getting his butt kicked out there."

"It's a good thing the modsouls showed up to help him, otherwise he'd be toast," I nodded. I'd so never let him live this down if we made it out alive. Honestly, a vice-captain level Shinigami falling back on someone like Ririn? It was pretty pathetic, you had to admit.

But they, too, proved to be no match for our evil, hybrid friend and were down for the count by my next blink.

"Everyone's getting the snot kicked outta 'em!" Jinta said, standing in indignation. "Come _**on**_!"

"Jerk," I muttered, flicking his forehead before hopping off of the roof. Even if they weren't really people (or alive, in the first place. They were kind of like robots, huh? Man-made machines intended to make life easier and assist. I wonder if they bleed…) I wasn't about to just leave some of my comrades passed out on the ground, fully vulnerable. It was too bad I really didn't think the good deed through, though, as the only one of them I could come close to picking up was Ririn. And maybe Nova. He was pretty damn svelte.

But I didn't get the chance to find out, as in the middle of man-dragging the blond I noticed the enemy go soaring, a mighty pound echoing across the length of the night sky. I paused to let out an appreciative whistle.

"Nice one, Renji! Good to see you're stepping it up."

When Ririn was out of immediate danger I chanced another glance up to see how things were going, only to see Ururu - little Ururu in her pigtails and pink polka-dotted pajamas - digging her fingers into the bloodied Arrancar's throat.

…I think I missed something.

Abandoning the effort, I flashed back up to the roof top to join Jinta in ogling this new twist in the battle.

"She's totally kicking his ass," I breathed. More like repeatedly bitch-slapping him in the face, actually. When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the unlikely scene, it was to find where Renji was just hanging out up in the sky. "What the hell are you doing, turkey?! You're getting shown up by everyone! Shoot, I should get out there and make you look like an idiot, too…"

Maybe it would work. Really, the big, bad vice captain made a fool of by faux spirits and a elementary-aged (figuratively) girl? Please, if I went up there I'd probably look like Ichigo. Was that Arrancar's power: inverting strength or something? Warrior types like Renji were rendered useless while the not-so-experienced few ascended to a higher status? It seemed like that kind of thing was going on.

Renji was too awed by the scene to pay attention to my antagonizing, so I followed his lead and switched directions just in time to see Ururu let the guy go as he aimed a slash at her.

"What a creep," I muttered through my teeth, already bracing myself for a pounce without putting much thought into it. "Hitting a kid like that…"

I was able to comprehend the rush of air before I found myself fifty yards above the ground, blocking a big-time bad guy with an unreleased Taimozou. The force of his surge pushed me back a few meters. While sliding, I tried not to think about how the only thing holding me up was half a football field's worth of weightless air particles. Just don't look down…

Luckily, the guy wasn't exactly body builder so I wasn't too outmatched physically. I held him off well enough to be able to devote most of my attention to taking him in from the close distance between us. It wasn't much: long blond hair, like a said, dark eyes, a little beret-like bone on the top of his head with a single little wing-like do-dad popping out. His costume was all right, though. The Arrancars had noticeably better style than the shinigami, even if a little weird. They got points for creativity and individuality, at least.

Apparently he didn't think much of _my_ threads, because the look on his face wasn't the kind a person wore when they were about to give you a compliment.

"And just who the hell are you, gnat," he growled into my air. I crinkled my nose, a little grossed out with his dripping-with-blood-and-sweat bod being so close. And he was rude. Smelly, dirty, and a jerk? Not a nice combo.

"I'm not inclined to tell you," I sneered sweetly, putting a little more effort into shoving him farther away. I would have said that horribly cliché "it's common courtesy to give your name before asking for mine" line, but I would have had to throw a "bastard" in at the end of it and that would make me a hypocrite for criticizing his manners. Lead by example, after all.

He didn't look interested in any lessons I had to give anyway. "How dare you," he seethed. "How dare all of you! Don't you know who I am?!"

I dodged when he made to stab his sword through my gut, skipping back until I landed beside Ururu. I took a moment to wipe off the spit he had let loose from my cheeks. Gross.

"You pests will all pay!" he went on, yelling in rage. "No one attacks me and lives to tell about it!"

A pang of fear stuck me when he brought the blade up parallel to his shoulders, soon after emitting a yellow-green glow. "Tsukikudake, Del Toro!"

The arm not gripping my zanpakutou came up to shield my eyes as the scene disappeared in a blinding light. I tried to keep up a squint at first to make sure nothing funny was going on, but there was just no way with the glare of death the guy was giving off. Gritting my teeth, I was forced to shut my lids entirely until the light had disappeared. When that time came, Repunzel-Man was replaced with Repunzel-Marowak.

And for any losers out there who are unfamiliar with Pocket Monsters (AKA: a little thing known as Pokémon), that means he was coated in bone. Only his whole body, not just his head. With long horns, sort of like Tauros. In hakama. Got it?

"You want to test me?" he sneered ominously, massive arms held out like a gorilla. "Well, this is what happens when an Arrancar releases his zanpakutou, brother!"

Typical. A sexist animal. Only interested in Renji, even though the guy really wasn't giving off much masculinity at the moment.

I might have thought up something witty to say in order to bring the guy back down to earth, but the project was put on hold when he vanished with a fleeting flicker. The impending wad that lodged itself in my throat was something I wasn't used to happening often, as was the action I took in allowing my body's reaction to take over rather than my mind's. I sort of regretted it when the Arrancar burst to life directly in front of me, my legs having moved me before Ururu. I had just enough time to brace my foot against his skeletal forehead for leverage before the both of us - my mass pushing Ururu's - were being catapulted into the sky.

I whimpered, eyelashes mashing into my cheeks with the force I was putting into squeezing them shut. It wasn't a nice feeling, let me tell you. I couldn't even find it in me to joke or make light about it. I felt like I was going to up-chuck, to be honest. Between the whirl of wind in my ears, the expanding height and speed combination leaving my intestines at the starting point, just knowing I was subjecting _myself _to this kind of abuse and a horrible, metallic taste on my tongue, I was officially second-guessing this whole "being a good guy" thing. I never got hurt sitting in the bleachers. This gig sort of sucked when you were missing most of your morality.

A sense of weightlessness hit me and I knew the journey was about to invert. Call me crazy, but the idea of plummeting sounded at least twice as bad as zooming upwards. My gut went topsy-turvy at just the hint of mentioning it. Gritting my teeth so hard I thought they might crack, I diverted my attention from the sudden loosening of my bladder as I felt myself falling to maneuvering my form into a vertical position, feet down. It was harder than it normally would be (probably as a result of my semi-panicking state) but my descend slowed down evenly until I was holding myself afloat, knees weak and breathing heavy. I wasn't sure when I started sweating like a hog, either, but my baggy sweat-pants were nearly melting into my legs from the heat and perspiration on my skin. Wanting to get a distraction from such un-feminine things as soon as possible, I scanned the area a bit a ways away to see Jinta jumping in my place as the knight, a rag-doll Ururu thrown over his shoulder (whoops.)

I tried to sigh about the stupidity of all this fighting, but it was sort of cut off when I started choking on a bunch of spit. Jeez, what a weird time to salivate. Practically hacking up a lung, I hunched over and dug my nose into my elbow.

Shaking my head as the period subsided and pulling away, my gaze was immediately drawn to the strings of mucus uniting my lips to my sleeve.

"What the hell," I grumbled in disgust, bringing the fingers of my other hand up to wipe my mouth clear. It may have been the dead of night and everything, but there was no doubting the dark substance coating my knuckles.

"Blood?"

But why? Why from there? Did I accidentally bite my tongue or something in the heat of the battle? There was a damn gallon of it pouring out. The bitter, iron floor was making my already traumatized stomach churn.

My stomach.

It was only when I slammed my palm into my abdomen did a piercing pain paralyze the length of my spine and all it controlled. I wasn't sure if my sharp cry was limited to my head or actually made verbal, as it was pretty much the last thing I was worrying about. Why was my stomach bleeding? What happened? When did it happen? Why didn't I feel something before this? It was barely even throbbing.

I shouldn't have - I knew I shouldn't have - but I couldn't help it. I looked down. I wish I hadn't. I didn't see the wound or anything, but I saw the result of it. The blood. All of it. Dying my shirt and bottoms alike in crimson. That stuff was supposed to be **inside**, not out there. Inside, where I wouldn't see it or taste it or smell it.

Oh, Lord, the smell. It wasn't the sight of life's liquid dripping off my bare toes and making an agonizingly lengthy plummet to a splattering end on the concrete below that filled my ears with buzzing. Well, that was nauseating, but not the main cause of my tunneling vision. And it wasn't even that suckling-on-pennies taste, which was slowly losing its power as my heart pounded louder. No, it was the stench. I guess it sort of went hand-in-hand with palatableness (or lack thereof) but for some reason that was the factor that made my eyes roll into the back of my skull; the stink of internal minerals that I was, for some reason, exceptionally sensitive to. Maybe I had some vampire blood in me, and that's why it fried my senses.

That brought me to my last memory for the night: irony. Because vampires didn't have blood, they drank it. Blood irony. Irony blood.

Get it?

* * *

I woke up within a fraction of a second. No heavy eyelids, foggy sight, distorted hearing or grogginess. It was like waking up after a long, fulfilling nap. The only thing out of place was the glob of red that curled up at my bedside.

That one through me for a loop.

"Jinta?" I muttered, voice gruff. The head of red shot up, Jinta's pupils pinholes in his sclera.

"Mikita!" he cracked, bringing an instant cringe to my features. Pouting lightly, I examined Jinta's kneeling form critically, take notice of the tenseness in every inch of him. The kid was shaking in pent-up tension.

"Jinta… are you on drugs?"

That glare and scowl I had come to love hating came back to his face just as easily as my awakening.

"Idiot!" Jinta hollered scathingly, the sound both music and torture to my ears. "You've been passed out for a day and the first thing you do is ask something like that?! We thought you were gonna die, Kame! A weakling like you shouldn't have been able to deal with that kind of injury! You went down so easy last night that I was waitin' for you to just kick the bucket all together! I thought if ya actually did survive, you'd at least be high off your Percocet or something! Why'd ya go and wake up anyway, huh?!"

I blinked. "Are you trying to say you were embezzling my Percocet while I was out and are upset that you've been caught?"

The roar he let out (after a brief, stunned interval) was predictable. "You know what, I don't even know why I bother! Just lie there and die for all I care! I'm goin' to go take Ururu out and celebrate _her_ recovery!"

"Oh?" I commented, brows raising as he scrambled to his feet and stalked to the door. "Were you planning on celebrating _my _recovery?" An unfocused, wolfish grin crept up to my ears. "Were you worried about me, Jinta?"

His shoulders stiffened enough to raise to his chin. "You wish!"

The door slammed shut behind his back. I stared at it for a moment, trying to think straight. It was a lost cause, so I turned to the ceiling instead.

It was a little tough trying to think back and make sense of all this, but if Jinta was serious about me being on medication it wasn't a big surprise. No wonder I felt so fluffy. I would need to wait until someone else wandered in to get the full story, but for now I think it was safe to assume that I had taken the bull by the horn. Or it had taken me by the horn. My colon, to be more precise.

I giggled suddenly, feeling a little deranged. I would so have to get one of those "I survived a Running of the Bulls" tee-shirts online. I may not have taken part of the real thing, but it was close enough, right? And it wasn't even lying! Not really. Barely stretching the truth, if you thought about it. How sick was that? Maybe I would scar to be able to prove it…

Later on, I would be shrieking over a possible mar on my skin, but during that duration of time it was the rad-est thing that I could imagine happening to me. It was so thrilling, in fact, that I pushed myself up onto my elbows, ignoring the way the room swung slightly, and tugged at my shirt until the wrappings around my torso were exposed. Moaning at the obstacle, I shifted myself higher up I order to rip away at the bandages. While I was busying myself with that task, the doors were drawn open.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! PUT YOUR SHIRT DOWN!!!"

"Taking thing out of proportion again," I grumbled, peering at Renji's newly one-toned head. "What are you getting a nose bleed for, anyway? I'm wearing a bra, you dwerp."

He shuddered, twisting himself around to quiver in the corner. "No, you're not!"

"…Oh."

If I hadn't been semi-sedated, any embarrassment over flashing the guy would still have been mostly drowned out by his over-reaction. He couldn't possibly be that pure, could he? He'd been alive for more than a hundred years! The 40-year-old virgin had nothing on Renji.

I heeded his order, allowing myself to fall back into the pillows with a hum. Renji peaked over his shoulder to make sure I was decent before facing me again, lips pulling his cheeks down and eyes averted.

"I see you're feelin' better," he grunted. He remembered himself soon after, standing up taller and putting on a serious face. "We took care of the Arrancars after Genteikaijou was approved. No one was seriously injured. But on the other hand, Hitsugaya-taichou's deducted that the enemies we faced were only at a Gillian level, or Adjuchas, at best. Basically, we've got a lot of work to do before we can take on the real thing, and not a lot of time to do it."

My gaze was blank, hands folded neatly in my lap. "I don't know what you just said, but I gotta tell ya, you looked damn good saying it."

Renji's brow twitched in what I was sure was some kind of timidity, but he covered up the notion with a familiar, irate expression. "What the hell's wrong with you now?" he spat, beady little rat eyes narrowing further. "I thought you were passed this negligent stage – why aren't ya taking this seriously?!"

"…Did you just say 'negligent'? You know what the word 'negligent' means?"

"Shut up and answer the damn question!"

Exhaling haughtily through a slim slit between my lips, I rolled my eyes to the side to compose my answer. "Yeah, I'm over that 'negligent' stage, as you called it, but that still doesn't make me a real Shinigami or anything like you guys. You really don't need to come in here with that businessman face to fill me in on all the going-ons. I don't want or need to know any of those specifics. The bad guy's the bad guy, you know? Naming the breed doesn't make them any less dangerous. I'll fight for the good of the world and everything, but keep me out of the political stuff as much as possible, okay?"

"You moron," Renji seethed, "that kind of information is useful! It's what'll save your life one day. Stop being selfish and look at the position you're in!"

"I'm in this position because I wasn't being selfish, actually."

I blinked, surprised with myself for hearing that sentence fall out of my mouth. But I didn't let myself dwell on the feeling. In truth, I wasn't sure what I _was_ feeling. Shouldn't it have been pride or something? Happiness that everyone was okay and I had played a part in protecting my own personal Addams family? So did that mean, as I was **still** entirely dispassionate towards the whole thing during the aftermath, that I hadn't made any progress with my attitude? Maybe my participation the night before was just a result of adrenaline rather than genuine care? Was I not even capable of tingling sensations any more due to a lifetime of refusing them?

In the end, I decided to let go of those thoughts for the moment. Why do now what you can do later, right?

Or never. Whichever came first.

Renji let a deep breath out through his nose, sinking to the floor and sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

"Wipe that lost look off your face," he husked, startling me. His head was lowered, chin propped up against the heel of his hand, but his eyes made sure to go out of their way to find mine. "You think you're so good at hiding it, but I've got you figured out. You give up before you even let yourself try. Nothin's gonna happen right away, so just stick with it. You know that you want to be a part of all this even if you won't admit it to yourself. Give it your all or don't bother."

It might not have been what I was expecting to hear, but Renji always did seem to find a way to make me listen. His words, however, were a lot easier said than done.

I decided not to respond, visually or verbally, for the better of the both of us. I didn't fare well when things got down to the bone and it wasn't the time to act like my usual self. Renji didn't deserve to be disrespected when he meant well, even if I me disrespecting him wasn't meant to be disrespectful.

"Aren't ya gonna say anythin'?"

He, apparently, didn't see things as logically as I did.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

My eyes shut lightly in a subdued wince. "If I say something, it won't be anything that matches the mood. You know me – I don't do these serious discussions."

"Well get used to it, because you need to take life seriously."

"I took your mom seriously last night."

"What?"

"What?"

Picking up on my half-hearted attempt at removing myself from reality, Renji squared his shoulders. "Look, I get that you're emotionally screwed up and all that, but get over it. Plenty of other people have lived their lives just fine after some kind 'a traumatizing childhood, so there's no excuse."

I wrinkled my nose angrily, but again chose not to give a comeback. He was probably right, after all, and I was just unwilling to accept it, as usual. But accepting it really wouldn't help. I had accepted that my lifestyle was wrong and making me miserable, but that didn't make it any easier to change. It might have made it harder, in fact, because it was all I was focusing on these days. What good was worrying going to do me? It only brought on more stress.

Sure, supposedly you never really live unless you've felt love and friendship and all that Tinkerbell stuff, but this wasn't a kids' fairy-tale. Real life wasn't so ideal. Not everyone lived happily ever after or defeated their foes. If you fail, then what was the point in trying? And I didn't want to hear any of that "live without regrets" crap, because it's not possible. To live without regrets is to live without doing wrong. Regretting is human nature. Unless everything works out, you'd still be thinking about what you could have done to change it. And even if thing did work out, there was just plain curiosity. Alternatives would always be there, good or bad, past or present. You _always_ look back, no mater what.

But then that was hypocritical, wasn't it? Because no matter what you do, there's always going to be that other option you could have taken. If I went along with opening myself up and ended up more scarred than I already was, I'd wished I would have never put myself through that hell in the first place. And if I didn't, I'd always wonder if I would have succeeded if I'd given myself the chance and ended up so much happier with my life. Because it was all up to me, of course. Renji, Orihime, Ichigo – they wouldn't hurt me. They were good people. But they were still mortal, like the people who had gotten me into this mess in the first place. I didn't know whether the thought of one of them dying and my own death frightened me more.

Ha. A ghost afraid of death. How stupid.

And that brought me to another point (and another distraction): how had I died the first time, when I was a human? When had I lived? Did I have a family then? Was I the same twisted puppet? I sort of wished there was a way to know. It might have been a good way to help me with_ this_ life time.

It was kind of hard to believe I had been a kid once – a _real_ 15-year-old girl. I was probably so innocent back then, whenever that was. Most young people around that age seemed that way to me now. Really, shouldn't I be some kind of sage in my old age? I mean, my soul was a few centuries old, for crying out loud! Wasn't that supposed to paint a picture of an all-knowing, wise spirit? I didn't feel any better off than the girls I went to school with. I fit right in with their jejune population, actually. That was pretty sad, given the circumstances. Even Renji stuck out a little, because people got that A-1 vibe off of him.

"…you're okay."

You were listening the whole time, Mikita. If you believe it, he'll believe it. "Yeah, I feel fine."

"You were spacing out the entire time I was talking, weren't you?"

I nodded.

"I was sayin'," Renji evidently repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that you should probably see that brat. She'll be glad that you're okay, since she's been mopin' around like it's her fault or somethin'."

Ururu? Well, to be entirely honest, I didn't really want to see her. She would look all unoffending and pathetic, probably cry and thank me and hug me. Bleh.

But, again, Renji was probably right. It might make me extremely uncomfortable, but that would help me out in the end. After all, if deep-running emotion was what I needed to adapt to, experiencing it through any means possible seemed like a good course of action.

And so, with the idea settled naggingly in the forefold of my mind, I grumbled out a reluctant, "Whatever."

* * *

Kids were freaky. Seriously. There had to be some kind of official phobia for the fear of children, and I had it. I wasn't sure what it was, but something about Ururu laying across my lap while emptying the H2O content from her body made this the most terrifying moment in my recent memory. Then again, maybe it wasn't kids (as I doubted Ururu was young enough to be considered a child) that got to me, but more of what they represented: sincerity, trust, faithfulness, purity, certitude...

Scary stuff.

I could only be thankful that it didn't last as long as I had dreaded it would, and also that I wasn't in it alone. I wasn't sure what Renji's reasons were for sticking around for the whole thing, but whether it was simply to supervise or get a laugh I didn't really mind. Him being tucked away in the corner was probably the only thing that kept me sane. Had it been just me and Ururu, one-on-one, I would bet that I'd have lugged myself up and jumped out of the window before she could even get around to thanking me for the 67th time.

The visit basically consisted of dear little Ururu stumbling over to my bedside and almost instantly falling onto the sheets with me, gripping the fabric like her lifeline as the sobbed out her relief that I was breathing. That then turned into gratefulness that I had jumped in to save her at all, to which my only response was an uncertain pat on the head. It was a good thing she was such a shy girl, however, as the verbal portion only lasted a short time before she quieted and limited the action to smothered sniffles and desperate clinging. I bit my lip religiously, trying to stop myself from recoiling from the closeness.

Eventually she calmed to the point where I questioned her consciousness. Trying to catch a peak for myself, I angled my torso to the side and managed to spot a portion of her profile. To my utmost dismay, the quarter of the eye that I could see was shut contently. Thoroughly miffed, I shot a look of Lyssa at the cherry-top nestled in the shadows.

"Look what this accomplished," I hissed sardonically. "Now apart from the gaping hole in my stomach, this sack of meat is going to numb my legs. I'll never walk again, at this rate."

"In that case, she should'a laid over your mouth so you'd never _talk_ again."

"...That didn't make any sense. There are so many simpler and more logical ways to get someone to shut up. Like asking, for one. Or, if you insist on numbing my lips to the point of immobility, just come over here and lay a big one -"

"Would you shut up?"

"Will do."

Dramatization or not, Ururu's weight really was beginning to take its tole on my limbs. I'd get a blood clot soon if she kept on snoozing. It was a shame she was so sweet, because if she had been nearly anyone else I would have just shoved them off without any regard for their rest.

Renji made a noise comprised almost entirely of smugness. "You feel better now, don't you? After seeing the good that came out of your sacrifice, I mean."

Sacrifice? He made it sound like I was Jesus or something. "The only thing I feel is numbness, which is sort of an oxymoron now that I think of it. Or is it a paradox? I'm never sure if they're the same thing. Ah, well, can't change language now, right? Just accept it for the nonsensical, confusing thing that it is and get on with our lives, eh, Renji-boy?"

Renji stared dully. I took it as a, "Hell yeah!" A moment later, though, he shook his head slowly and opened his mouth for himself. "You aren't foolin' anyone. Quit ramblin' and stay on task, would ya?"

The man could see right through me, even when I was a mystery to myself. If I didn't understand me, how the hell was _he_ making it look so easy?

"Think about it: Ururu might not be alive right now if it hadn't been for you. You were hurt in her place. Doesn't that mean somethin' to you? Everyone's been worryin' and waitin' to see if you'd come out intact. Does it make all the pain worth it, to know that kind of thing? Would you do it again, without needin' to think it through?"

If a tree falls in the forest and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound?

I harrumphed, sitting up straight with as much indignation as I could muster while trying not to stir the slumbering chika drooling on my knees. "Duh."

My response earned a small smirk that I would almost swear was bordering a smile. "Good."

It sort of hit me then, in some lame metaphorical way. Maybe thinking about it was what was holding me back. Don't think, just do. It was masochism to analyze every little step I made and try to chain down my very _self_ (man, did that sound queer), so just keep going like I have been for the past few weeks. It'd be fine. Take it easy. Listen to The Eagles.

I'd said it before – some things just belong on the inside, out of sight and out of mind. They were there without me needing to point it out, and their job would get done without my handling. It could be reiterated in a million of other ways, but I think we all get the point.

How clever. A sly turkey, that Renji.

* * *

**(A/N) The fact that this is only 7K words sort of makes me cringe, especially since it took just two days short of two months to get out. Don't shoot! I won't bother with excuses, but you guys know I haven't just been twidling my thumbs in all that time, I hope :] Life is an annoyingly time consuming thing...**

**I was planning to make a few announcements at the end of this chapter and ask another impromptu poll question about the next chapter, but honestly, I forgot everything I intended to add in. It must not have been important. If I think of it, maybe I'll just include it in my review replies ;D Until then, cheerio!**

**And just a little side note: I happen to LOVE The Eagles, thank you very much. I swear, I was born in the wrong era XD "Take it Easy" was on the radio this morning while I was going to school, so when I re-read that line I had to add a mention of them in~**


	23. Chapter 23

**On the Crossing to Choose**

Chapter Twenty-Three

* * *

Ms. Ochi paused at the foot of my desk, her head tilting to the side.

"My, Mikita. What was your inspiration for this project, hm?"

I didn't deign to spare her a glance, going right on with my coloring. "It's a missing person poster. For Ichigo."

"How creative!"

I thought so. When I returned to the world (healed to functioning status) and found out the kid had had an emotional breakdown and gone AWOL, I wasn't really surprised. It was bound to happen someday, seeing as every time he lost a fight he went into cut-wrist mode. _Poor me, I'm too weak, whah whah whah_. How old was that getting?

He totally deserved my amateur art skills, and nothing more. Especially since he was only a few miles away, as I found out when I took the time to try and sense his spiritual pressure. That molding dollop of ear pus. Not telling anyone he was running off to train with his Vizard friends, the nerve!

Cracking my knuckles at a job half-assed-ly done, I peered over to see how everyone else was holding up. The classroom seemed pretty barren during that week's art lesson, but maybe that was just because most of the spiritual bunch were missing. Despite enrolling in the school for reasons I didn't fully understand, the Shinigami squad assigned to the area was nowhere to be seen. Most were probably putting more effort into patrolling after the Arrancar attack, but I knew Renji was locked under the store at the moment training Chad. Uryuu, like Ichigo, had apparently vanished off the face of the Earth (not that he really counted anymore, being a "normal" human these days and all). So that left me and Orihime as the sole soul sensors. Only she was on the other side of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of girls but looking just as isolated as me, who was at least three desks away from the nearest person. That soon changed, though, when Keigo plopped down in the seat next to me.

"Yo-ho~, Mikita!"

I stiffened, sending the boy an uneasy smile. His chipper mood dimmed down a bit, his eyes blinking widely.

"There you go again," he observed thoughtfully. "What's gotten into you lately, huh? Acting so distant and... nice. It's just not like you, ya know?"

A chuckle came out of my mouth with the ease of child birth. "What do you mean by that, exactly? Are you saying I usually have a bad attitude?"

"Well, yeah."

I didn't try to force any visible signs of cordiality after that, slumping down in my seat with a lip-flapping exhale and staring down at my caricaturized fruit basket. "I guess I can't argue with that," I admitted without shame. "I do tend to be pretty nasty towards you guys, don't I? Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry!" Keigo chirped, leaning in. "We know you don't mean it or anything, so it's all good! Even if you rag on everyone a lot and pretend to hate us, you still stick around. That's just your way of showing you care, isn't it? You'll try not to get too close, but in the end you'll always be there."

I wondered if he really thought that was a good thing. Because he was right. I was there for him when he was attacked by Bounts, but just literally - I was _there_. Doing next to nothing. Ichigo was the one a bit of a ways away actually fighting. So when you looked at it that way, was just being there good enough?

Then again, he didn't exactly remember any of that night, so why bother bringing it up? And I wasn't supposed to be thinking about all of this stuff, so...

"You know me too well, Keigo."

The bell rang. I made to stand up. "Well, it's a shame we have to part like this Pantomime, but -"

"See ya, Mikita!"

"...you already left. Yeah. Okay, that's fine."

Grinding my teeth, I hitched my bag up onto my shoulder, rolled up my poster, and tossed it into the trash basket on my way out of the room.

As I made my way through the halls, I wondered what would be worth doing his afternoon. Just hanging around like usual? Nah, I was getting bored with that. Joining Renji and el Mexicano in their training? Maybe. If I couldn't think of anything better, I guess. My only other options were wandering the town or finding someone to skip through a field of wildflowers with. We'd have to hold hands of course, otherwise the image would be entirely worthless, and I happened to be very selective about who I touched. I couldn't think of anyone off the top of my head, so I guess that plan was out too. Oh, the tragedy.

At any rate, I ended up wandering around town (whether that was my actual plan or just a method of stalling until something better came up, I wasn't sure). I figured that, more often than not, whenever I went on one of these little excursions my solitude was usually interrupted anyway - most of the time by someone I knew dragging me into some kind of troublesome trouble. It was only a matter of time until entertainment found me rather than me finding it.

As was also overwhelmingly likely, that person had a highly probable chance of having Danny Fenton-like abilities. And I was right, on some level. Because when I bumped into another body while strolling down the sidewalk about an hour later, the tiny squeak that I heard could only belong to one person. A person that had joined in with the estrogen contribution in our male-dominated world of ghouls. A girl that always had some kind of drama going on in her life, most of the time internal emotional issues, that really should get some kind of guidance.

"Oh," Orihime blinked, he features screwed up in inner strife. "Kame-chan..."

* * *

"I guess you'll just stay here then, Kame-chan. I'll go in and try to find Ichigo.

"What if something happens while you're in there?"

"Uh, well…if I take too long, maybe you should just come in after me."

"That's a great suggestion and everything, only I can't get through the barrier, which is sort of why I'm staying behind in the first place."

"I forgot about that! Ha ha, sorry."

I shouldn't have expected anything more from her.

Orihime smiled sheepishly before regaining her game face and slipping through the invisible kidou wall. It wasn't too long before her gamboling form disappeared into the deserted warehouse beyond my physical tangibility.

Normally the idea would be full of red flags and pretty much the stupidest thing a person could do (sneaking into some creepy factory all alone when your only back-up has no way of getting to you even if they do hear your frantic pleas for help; it pretty much has "horror movie cliché" written all over it, no?) but in this case I was willing to risk it (for Orihime's sake, apparently). We were both sure that Ichigo's spiritual pressure was coming from somewhere in there, so if the SSR (substitute soul reaper, aren't I clever? Acronyms make to world go round) was involved it couldn't be anything _too_ dangerous.

Unless, as I alluded to earlier, he was seriously suicidal and therefore subjecting himself to a slew of big, bad, deadly beasties; in which case Orihime would probably end up a great source of calcium for some Wild Things. But hey, it's the circle of life, right? Her decision.

I pondered similar, travestying thoughts for the first twenty minutes or so that I waited outside. Eventually I moved a bit of a ways away from the entrance (something about sitting in front of that huge, gaping doorway and staring into the abyss freaked me out) and sank down to the ground, sitting Indian style and using the barrier behind me as a back support. The magic made my spine tingle.

It didn't exactly feel so great once the sun started to set, though. And when the streetlamps came on as the only earthly light contribution, that tingling began to feel more like acupuncture needles. Add that to my hunger, chills, and lack of human interaction and it all summed up to an unhappy Mikita.

Trying to make light of the situation, I comforted myself with the fact that I wouldn't have to bother looking out for any Arrancar. Orihime had stumbled through an explanation on our way here, saying that the reason she needed to sniff Ichigo out so badly that day was because Hitsugaya had gotten in touch with the Soul Society earlier and found out that Aizen guy's plans. They were entirely unoriginal, to be honest (destroying what else but _Karakura Town _as his first step in world domination) but I could see why she would be so concerned. I, on the other hand, was more fascinated with the truth that this humble, unsuspecting city was actually a prophetic hot spot for paranormal activity than the impending war in the winter. You had to admit, it explained a lot.

Also, being the psychological mess that she was, Orihime had apparently forgotten that we had never exactly "made up" after my dispute with the gang. I really hadn't made up with any of them, actually, seeing as Renji and Urahara didn't count. I couldn't decided whether I was disappointed or glad. It was a good thing, wasn't it? That I was accepted back in so easily during crunch time, no words or apologies needed? I knew I was relieved about that, but on another level I sort of felt like I _needed_ to talk to them about it and try to explain myself. Then again, I didn't want to. At all. So for now, this swamp of anxiety in my gut was just fine. There were bigger fish to fry.

Like the guy stalking his way over to me.

I stiffened when I noticed the slim, dark shape emerging from the factory doors. It definitely wasn't Orihime (he was a pole, completely lacking the two gallons of milk on his upper torso that Orihime hauled around day and night) but I still couldn't find it in me to start freaking out. Instead I just stayed still, eyeing him warily until he moved close enough into the light so that I could make him out better.

"Hirako," I acknowledged, mentally fist pumping. "I knew you were a wizard."

His shoulders slumped a little further down, a tight-lipped smile working its way up his cheeks. "Actually, we call ourselves Vizards."

I actually felt my face heat up. "Same thing. That's a stupid name anyway."

"Maybe," he mused. "Ya do know Orihime left almost a half hour ago, don't ya?"

"...What?"

"An' I'm sure ya weren't just too far inta' yer own head ta' even notice her rush past, were ya?"

"_Me_? What about her forgetting I was waiting?"

"She has a lot 'a things on her mind. I'm not surprised that she left so quickly without sparin' ya an extra thought."

I didn't particularly care what Orihime was worrying about. Bitch forgot me. Deserted me. In this dodgy part of town. I would have sat out here all night wondering when she was coming out, but she couldn't even have been bothered look for me. Freakin' hypocrites. I try to be loyal and look where it gets me. Shinji could totally just rape me right now and it'd be on her head. I should just join Aizen in his grand scheme of lame evilness. At least I could _expect_ deception from them.

The blond cut off my grumbling, squatting down beside me with a deadpanned look. I shifted away, not liking being so close to such a weird guy. His hair was funny. And he had no lips. Just paper thin, banana long lines. It'd be a horrible experience kissing someone like him. Not that I was considering it.

Shinji didn't seem to mind me recoil, only studying my face with rapt attention. His mouth cranked open a few moments before he said anything. "Ya really don't remember me, do ya?"

"From class?" That was only a few days ago. Did he think I was a dwerp or something? "Well, it's a _little_ fuzzy, but no, I do." I seemed to recall him rejecting my offer for companionship, actually, and telling me to get lost. This friendship thing wasn't working out so well for me, was it?

He snorted lightly, closing his eyes and letting his chin dip. "So it's true. Ya have no clue who I am."

I wrinkled my nose. "Am I supposed to? You famous or something? Wait, are you part of that royal family Orihime was talking about with the key or whatever?"

The only thing he did was smile. It was that leering, Cheshire Cat smile that said he was withholding some super important information from me merely for his own amusement.

Needless to say, I didn't like it.

"Ya'll figure it out some time," Shinji said, tone infested with slyness. "I'll talk ta' Hiyori about it. If she an' the others agree, maybe ya could come down and meet the rest of us. Seeing her again may help to jog yer memory, and apparently the secrecy of our presence here dropped down in priorities."

I blinked. "So I do know you, huh? You and this Hiyori lady? Doesn't ring any bells."

Shinji's eyes bulged slightly, and I was almost alarmed until he burst out in laughter. "_**Lady**_? Callin' Hiyori a lady! Ya _must_ not remember her at all!"

"Why are you being so buddy-buddy with me all of a sudden anyway?" I asked, not amused and not willing to humor him. "I thought you didn't like me."

He shrugged, regaining his careless expression as he swooped back up to his full height. I scowled upwards, not liking the leverage he had on me.

"No reason, really," he responded, airy. He cocked his head to the side, looking back towards the warehouse. "It's just that I have a feelin' things are goin' ta' be changin' soon, and I'd rather get this rekindling business over with now while things are still relatively calm. It'll make everythin' easier in the end, I think."

"The end?"

He cocked his head just enough to let me see the corner of his eye. "Ya must have been told. About the war in winter?"

"Yeah, I know about that," I snorted, "but don't you think it's a little pessimistic to use it synonymously with 'the end'?"

Shinji's smirk grew three sizes. "I suppose so, but we'll see what happens. For now, scram. I only came out here ta' tell ya ta' leave, so get on with it. Like I said, maybe ya can come back some other time, but fer now that no-good Ichigo needs all the help he can get and we've got no room ta' entertain any other guests."

I might have admonished him for being rude to me if he hadn't thrown in the insult towards Ichigo. Be that as it may, I still watched on with a scowl as he sauntered away, back into the horror worthy pit that was his home. And after that, when he had left, I decided to do the same.

* * *

Honestly, I'd never given much thought to war. I mean, it seemed like such an old-fashioned thing. When I considered it now, the word only brought these black-and-white images of armor and samurai to mind; stuff from the old days, you know. It almost seemed too cinematic to think of a present-day war at all, never mind one I was expected to be involved in.

People of the twenty-first century were pretty pampered when you thought about it. War today made me think of a game of Battleship or Clue or something. Everything was so detached and technological to the humans. I bet people didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they signed up these days - not until they went on as soldiers and realized it wasn't all glory and patriotism. Not like back in my time. Then, people were eager for death if it meant promoting cause. It was extreme, but it was the way things were. I was there for World War One, World War Two, and all the scrimmages in between. That was when this new-age stuff all started, I guess. The elements of this age were almost disgraceful to the past if you thought about it: advanced weapons that let you kill without actually seeing those you killed, sneaky methods of mass murder and spying, propaganda up the yin-yang; it was all so artificial. Meaningless. Slimy.

I guess I always figured that if I was going to kill someone, it'd be direct. Not middle men or shield, but just my sword in his gut. After all, if you're going to take a guys life, you should at least have the decency to look him in the eye when you do it, right? That was the way it should be. Maybe then people wouldn't do it so often, or lightly. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Either way, it sucked.

* * *

I wouldn't call my journey to the shop a walk so much as a dirge. I could practically hear the trumpet notes in the background. There was really no desire in me to get back. Somehow I knew, like Shinji had said, that things were going to change. After all, everyone else had to know about the proceedings by now. The way I saw it, they'd either be jumping into crash-course training right away or stalling just long enough to pent around in any and every ill-bred emotion known to man.

I wasn't looking forward to any of it. I didn't know where I would fit into any of it. I didn't want to just sit around thinking about the future, but as much as I hated to admit it I still wasn't in the position to stand next to Renji or Rukia, or even Chad or Orihime, on even ground in the front lines. We were too different at this point, and maybe it was just my own pride, but I wasn't ready to join them wholeheartedly yet. I'd keep up my nonchalance towards the whole affair for now, but while they were all busy preparing I'd be doing some work of my own. And when it came down to it, I'd be there. And not just as a useless bystander. I'd be there with something to prove and the means to prove it. It just had to be done on my own time, in my own way.

"A little longer," I sighed, raising my head to the night sky. My breath came out in silvery wisps, another reminder of the chilling days to come. "Just a little longer, and then I'm moving on. For good. No more wasting time."

There wasn't anymore time to waste. It was pretty much now or never, I figured. The world wasn't so simple anymore. It wouldn't allow me to just float around. It was sink or swim.

Like it or not, this was the way it had to be. There was no other choice for me. I'd dug myself into this over a hundred years ago, when I followed Urahara down here and discovered Taimozou. This was were that decision lead me. There was no fork in the road ahead, but one direction to take. I was with Urahara, and the Shinigami by extension. I _was_ a Shinigami, albeit a sorry excuse for one. There was no denying or turning my back on that truth. I was on the good side, and it was my duty to fight evil. As a Soul Reaper and as a person, I couldn't just let Karakura and all the humans in it turn to dust. It didn't matter how scared or weak I was, because I was still part of the town's only hope.

And you know, this time, it really was _all Ichigo's fault_. Kid just had to go save Rukia that one time all those ages ago, didn't he? Think of where we'd be if he'd just let fate work it's course, huh? Think about it...

* * *

"I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of the upcoming battle, Mikita. In fact, I'm planning on taking Orihime to the Soul Society in a few days for some extra training, and I think it would be wise for you to come with us. But when we return, you should stay behind."

_'Where I won't be in the way.'_

She didn't have to say it - I knew that's what she meant by all of this. As if she had any right in the first place. Just who did Rukia think she was?

I opened my mouth to retort, but the Kuchiki princess cut me off with a slight grimace.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," she said, boldly holding my gaze, "and I don't want you to think that I don't value the part you played in rescuing me, but as it is I don't see how your presence would be of any help. I'm not trying to belittle or offend you, but you know where you stand."

There were so many things buzzing through my mind. Emotions, thoughts, taunts - I couldn't settle on anything. So my visage remained neutral, and I spoke with cool practicality. "Where is all this coming from? Why bring it up only now?"

I probably should have been furious with her, but I could honestly see her point. And besides that, accosting me like this probably wasn't any easier for Rukia than it was for me to confront the others with an apology (ironically for the very attitude I was getting called out on now). Only _she_ had the guts to actually do it despite her discomfort.

"Urahara..." she started off, gazing out of my window. At least we were in my bedroom while having this little chat: my territory. "Urahara asked Orihime to stay out of the conflict. Did you know that? Orihime, who's been by our side through everything. She doesn't deserve that. I told her that lack of power isn't what gets in the way, but lack of resolve." She tore her eyes away from the glass and met mine, hard and soft all at once. "You can't disagree, can you?"

Did I call that or what?

But I couldn't really blame her, like I said. I actually had to give her credit for being the one to come out about it point-blank, instead of leading me along like a little sister or something. You had to respect her knack for being honest and professional all at once.

As it was, I clutched my pillow tighter to me, sitting cross-legged on my bed. "It's not a trade-off, you know," I said, stringent. "I mean, it's not like if I decide not to get involved, there's suddenly a space open for Orihime. There's no party limit. If anything, we'll need all the help we can get, right? Every person on our side will be useful in some way."

She didn't respond, but I guess my mini rant didn't really answer anything she was interested in. So to her probing gaze and rigid stance, I eventually nodded my head. "You're right, I don't disagree with your logic at all. Someone who isn't willing to give their life to save people who will never even know about the sacrifice shouldn't be in a war. If they don't want to be there, they shouldn't be there."

Again, Rukia didn't offer any verbal acknowledgment, but I could sense her body tense further.

Her lips separated, a parched smack breaking the silence.

"It's only advice," she implored. I found her tone strange, given the situation. "I realize that I have no authority over your choice, and you're still free to decide whatever you want. It was only suggestion."

"I know, and it was a good suggestion. It makes major sense. I'll definitely think about it."

Rukia's eyes narrowed, while mine remained casually lidded. I pretended not to notice her unnerve, only faking a yawn and falling back into the mattress.

"It's getting late," I hinted, closing my eyes. "You should be getting back to the Kurosaki's. Someone has to take care of them while Ichigo's away, right?"

What was probably only a few moments stretched on for hours. I could still feel Rukia standing where I had left her while I feigned sleep, and had it been any other night I might have fallen asleep for real in the time it took for her to take the steady steps across my floor and into the hall. With a final flick of the light switch and click of the door, she was gone.

I smirked.

* * *

"Silly Shinigami," I humming under my breath, stirring a mug of hot chocolate - with added fudge syrup, caramel, fluff, and coffee. "I aint got no pride to damage. You're bluff won't work on me..."

And it wouldn't. Nope. I'd play along and let her sweat. It would make my redemption all the more sweet.

Just thinking about it kept me up all night. And even if I would have gotten over that eventually, this drink would definitely put me on a sugar high. But that was fine. It gave me plenty of time to map out my master plan.

It was while I was singing into my concoction that Renji practically fell into the kitchen with me, looking like he had dug his way up from Africa. He'd obviously been expecting the house to be sleeping, because he pretty much petrified at the sight of me seated contently at the table. I stared back, as still as him, for only about half a heartbeat before getting over it and returned to my drink. He took a little longer, but nonetheless resumed his trudge forward until he collapsed onto the cushion opposite me.

"What are you doin' up?" he asked, voice croaking a bit. "It's late."

"You mean it's early," I rebutted, nodding towards the analogue clock mounted on the wall, where the hour hand pointed towards a single digit number. "Or do they not have specific time measurements in the Soul Society? Do you guys just use a sundial and track the moon or something? Roughing it like cowboys and Indians, eh? I like it. I'll have to call you Dances with Wolves from now on. Great movie, by the way. Be sure to see it when you have the chance. I couldn't tell you anything about the book, though."

Renji eyed my glass warily. "Maybe you should save that stuff for the winter. You'll need all the energy you can get."

"I'm almost always like this anyway," I said, almost leaping at the opportunity to pop out the second part of my point. I managed to hold myself back until he nodded in agreement. "Besides, I'm not going to be around when winter comes. I'm staying in the Soul Society to avoid all the bloodshed."

There wasn't an immediate jolt of surprise like I had been expecting, but I figured Renji might have been too worn out - body and mind - to put it together right away. He'd been hunched over the table top in a slump, but his head gradually lifted until he was able to look me in the eye, expressionless.

"What?"

"It was Rukia's idea," I went on, lowering my gaze to the murky brown slime I intended to ingest, "and I couldn't agree more. It'll make things easier for everyone, huh? But I was thinking, maybe I could take over your barracks while I'm there, seeing as you wouldn't be using them. A lieutenant's suite must be practically fit for royalty. I guess most of the rooms will be empty though, given that pretty much everyone will be down here dying. But I'd still like to stay somewhere more personal, you know? Say, you don't think Rikichi is strong enough to be invited to fight, do you? It might be nice to hang around with him while I'm there. Maybe I could take over his room again, too, and not have to worry about you walking in on me without any cloths on. You sort of do that more than's normal. Have you ever noticed? They are all accidents, aren't they? But anyway, yeah, it should be nice getting away for a while. Hopefully not too many of you will die. And preferably you'll win. It'd suck major balls to be totally annihilated and have the bad guy take over, wouldn't it? Might be an interesting change of events, though. Good always being victorious over evil is a little lame. And really, working for Aizen might not be that bad. As long as that fox guy doesn't remember me. I mean, what if he heard all those rumors I was spreading around about kicking his ass the last time we duked it out? He'd probably end up killing me for real then. And after all the trouble I would have gone through to elude death..."

I kept my eyes downcast in mock thoughtfulness. Renji was quiet and brooding. For about a millisecond.

"Bullshit."

My head snapped up. "Huh?"

"Bullshit," he snorted, lounging as if he were totally at ease. His head even lolled back and he closed his eyes. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Why would he not?

Obviously reading my look, the lieutenant cast me a single glance and rolled his eyes skyward (or ceilingward, I suppose would be more politically correct) with a huff.

"I know you," he said, as if it were as simple as could be. "You're a pest who takes pride in dodging any sense of intimacy, but you'd never go through with somethin' like that. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, because you're too good for it. You know you are, even if you still can't really accept it after all this time. So don't try to fool me with that kind 'a crap. It won't work. Just like it won't work on yourself. Not for long."

Jeez, these speeches were like broken records.

"Uh-huh," I chirped, unfazed. "Maybe you don't know we as well as you think you do. We'll see what happens."

"Yeah, we will."

"Yup."

"Yeah."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"There's no need to get so worked up."

"I'm not getting worked up!"

"Sure."

"Stop that! I'm not falling for it again."

"What?"

"That!"

"Who?"

"You -"

"Where? When? Why? How?"

And with that, the topic was assumed over. My own skill was sometimes astounding. Unfortunately, it was at Renji's expense. If only it were possible for a head to explode from pure anger…

He recovered remarkably well, taking in a deep, shuddering breath before spewing it out through his lips. I took the time to finish sipping up the last dregs of my mocha-cappuccino-chocolate-marshmallow thingy, slurping up the last few drops just as Renji's cheeks regained their normal coloring. On the other hand, the lack of powerful emotion only made the signs of wear and tear on (and in, I would imagine) his body all the more noticeable. The guy had Grand Canyon replicas under his eyes, for goodness sake.

I watched him from over my mug for a moment, not caring all that much about whether or not he could feel my gaze on him. When he didn't react, a part of me thought it had nothing to do with him not noticing. Being that, I lifted myself to my feet (cringing as my knees cracked, for whatever reason. I wasn't _that_ old) and shuffled my way to the sink to deposit the cup. It was out of the kindness of my own heart that I snatched up a bottle of mild painkillers that were kept in the cabinet close by.

"Here," I said, dropping the container onto the space Renji was partially passed out on. In the folds of my mind, I wondered if he even knew what to do with the medicine. He'd probably end up downing the whole bottle, the idiot. "Follow the directions on the back. They'll make you feel better."

I felt like I was talking to an eight year old. Basically, right?

"So," I went on, unwilling to look too Renji's way, lest we meet eyes, "bed should probably be our next destination, huh? You okay to get there on your own?"

Damn, what a stupid question.

"...Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Of course."

A handful of homosexual children were born.

"Uh…" I reached out and splayed my fingers atop of his head. I was _patting_ him, really? "…night."

"Night."

I didn't pull my hand away for another second or two. He didn't seem to give a damn.

* * *

This was like pulling teeth, if I was telling the truth. It was one of the worst feelings in the world. The saying "calm before the storm" must only be relevant in movies, because although there was no significant action going on, the atmosphere was anything but calm. But maybe that was just me.

The anticipation was like an itch, one that I couldn't slap away and be done with. How had I done this for so long? I hated sitting around - I wanted to get _moving_! That never happened, not to me. If we weren't careful, Urahara might start wearing cloths from this era and invest in an electric fan.

Even the little mind games I tried coming up with didn't help much. Flicking the wrappers from candy I had stolen towards makeshift targets sounded _stupid_. My own spurts of innovative genius were below me. It was getting that bad.

But staying loyal to my adopted act, I was going out of my way to avoid all familiar faces around the shop and feign the usual idiocy. It wasn't exactly comparable to Frodo's trip to Mount Doom, but it was an annoying process all the same. I'd taken to taking care of the candy business since everyone else was busy, but that might have just made the waiting game twice as bad. Seriously - _no one comes to this store_. How the hell did we still have a roof over our heads?

I was begging for some kind of attack. It was horrible to say, but I wasn't about to deny it. I imagined how chaotic the whole scene would be, with all of the others buzzing around in a frenzy while I skipped away, gleeful out of my mind. I just had to bait my breath and wait. As soon as I sensed it, I'd be off on my own journey.

But until then, I was wearing an apron.

It was Godawful.

Until some visitors showed up. Four of them. Guess who?

The leader of the pack was, needless to say, that short-stuff of a captain. He seemed more familiar to me than he should have been, but any details I tried to gather were fuzzy, so I let it go for the moment. Behind him was his lieutenant, Rangiku, who I wasn't sure how to react to. Two men that I'd officially never seen before in my life brought up the rear. At least, I think they were both men. One was a little sketchy looking. I tried not to pass any judgments before I knew better.

Short-stuff stalked his way right past me like he owned the place, barely sparing a glance. Not jumping for joy over that treatment, I played ignorant.

"Hey, kid," I ground out, purposefully using a stereotypical chiding tone. The arctic-haired Shinigami turned to a statue in an instant. "You're not allowed to go back there. Haven't you been taught about trespassing? You wouldn't want to get in trouble and make me call your parents, would you? I bet you'd get one gnarly time-out."

I distantly acknowledged that the blatant show of disrespect was slightly uncalled for, but I was bored. Besides, you had to admit he kind of asked for it with that better-than-you attitude.

The captain (Himitsutaga? What the hell was his name again?) reminded me of an angered werewolf (according to Stephanie Meyer, anyway) with the way his frame started quivering in what I figured was safe to diagnose as fury. But when he lifted his head to shoot me what I could confidently put in the top three rankings of worst looks to be on the receiving end of, I swore _I_ shrank a meter or two.

"What did you say?" he hissed. Did he shoot some icicles with that glare or was it just me? "Do you have any idea who-"

"Hey," an exceedingly more chipper tone cut in. The strawberry-blonde second-in-command popped up in front of her superior without a care in the world towards _who he was_. "I know you! Mikita, right? We had a lot of fun together that night you stayed over in my division a few months ago."

A squawk fell out of her lips as her captain pushed her aside, casting her an irate stare before settling his eyes once more on me. I bristled. He'd be so cute if he weren't so terrifying.

"I knew you looked familiar," he said, almost to himself. His words were distant, which I didn't really mind when compared to his growl. My relief was short lived, though, when he turned on me with controlled ferocity. "You're the one who got yourself drunk in my office and drooled all over the week's supply of paperwork I had just finished!"

I did what? Huh. Maybe that was why, despite not remembering him, I got a bad feeling right off the bat.

I shrugged my shoulders, a helpless smile plastering my expression. "Sorry about that. I swear I didn't mean it."

He'd just opened his mouth to give some sort of sour snap, but was stopped short when Rangiku burst in front of him again, swatting a hand dismissively.

"Just look over him," she assured me, her very essence sparkling and grand. "He's always such a poor sport! Say, we should get together some time. I mean, obviously I have responsibilities and we'll all be busy getting ready for the winter and whatnot, but we could take one night off just for the girls, can't we? What do you say: a feminine meeting at Orihime's! A sleepover! Isn't that the best idea? It'll be the perfect thing to break up all the stress we've been put through lately. Speaking of that, I heard you were hurt during the last Arrancar attack. I'm sorry we didn't check in sooner, but it seems like you're doing fine now. Why don't -"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

For some bizarre reason that probably dated back to the pathetic defensive maneuvers of Homo Sapiens, I clung to the counter and stooped when the big bald guy suddenly burst. His unknown-gendered friend (I was almost sure it was a male) snorted delicately, and took over.

"Stop your gabbing, Matsumoto," he (now confirmed via vocal pitch) said, running a hair through his hair with what I could only describe as a majestic motion. "We have work to do. Stalling is not very beautiful at all."

"Oh, not you too, Yumichika!" Rangiku said, somewhere between a whine and a huff. "Fine, then. I'll see you around, Mikita. We'll catch up another time. I'll bring the sake."

They trampled their way past me and into the other half of the house. I was immobile for a while.

"…Why the hell is everyone I know so damn _weird_?"

* * *

"These things didn't work, ya know."

I pulled my head up from its nest in my arms, squinting blearily up at the crimson ponytail that had stomped up to the candy counter. He was holding the container of pain killers.

"Did you even open it?" I questioned in a husk. Was it even posible to fall asleep standing up? "I forgot to tell you about the child lock…"

At first, I had been entirely serious about that point. But after I took a minute to think about it, I had to hold back a giggle. It was way too easy to picture him wrestling with the bottle, unable to grasp the concept of pushing and turning the cap at the same time.

Renji scowled. "Of course I did, idiot. I can read directions."

I made a mental note to buy some legit baby locks for all the cabinets in the house. No directions on them once they're installed; he'd be locked out for good.

"Well, my apologies," I said. "I'm not a doctor. It's the best I can do as far as over the counter medicine goes."

With a dip in his brow, Renji continued to frown. He stared at me for a good minute solid (during which time I tried not to notice, since it was pretty unnerving). The moment came, however, when I couldn't take it anymore.

"What?"

Still unable to look him in the eye, I stared out towards the far wall while he gathered his words.

"You should be down there with us," he said at last. "It's not right that you're up here wasting your time when you could be getting some valuable training in."

"_Training_ would be wasting my time. I'm not fighting."

I was barely aware of yelping when Renji slammed his fist into the table top, painfully close to my lounging form.

"Stop sayin' that," he all but snarled, looking livid. "You are. I know you are. You know you are. I don't know why your pulling this stupid stunt, but you need to get over it! I get that there's some kind 'a plan on kind of plan goin' on in that head of yours, but you'd better have thought it through. Otherwise, get your ass movin'. Nobody has time for your personal vendetta against authority or whatever."

I took a much needed breather (not to mention the fact that I had to make sure I hadn't accidentally peed a little at the terror of his sudden lashing out) before I offered a slow blink.

"I know," I muttered, morose, "that we don't have time to deal with my own needs. That's why… _**I'm not fighting**_."

I was sure his eyes flashed scarlet.

"Don't you get it?" he rattled on, tone sending a freezing warmth down my spine; I could pick more emotions in it than races in the United States. And not all of them were the usual, expected animosity. "Don't you get why we all push you so much and give you a hard time about everything? We're not just gonna let you give up when you have so much potential. And I don't just mean that in a strategic sense. Mikita, you're… I mean, if..."

"Shit," I interrupted him, snapping my head towards the door. "Do you feel that?"

Judging from the way he didn't answer, I'd call it a no.

"Arrancars. They're here."

Renji let a swear slip out just when I let out a whoop of absolute elation. This was exactly what I had been waiting for!

Renji faced me, brows raised and incredulous. "What the hell do you - hey! Where're you goin'?"

"No time. None of your business. I'll be back eventually," I called back in a rush, ripping off my apron and running an extremely quick (and probably useless) mental checklist through my head before scampering outside. I barely contained myself from jumping right into a full sprint, still holding out until I sensed one crucial presence in the midst of chaos.

"Where the hell are you," I grumbled, impatient, as I stalked down the sidewalk. "Always taking your sweet time with everything like the diva you are…"

Just because he was so adored or whatever. Kid thought he could do whatever the hell he wanted whenever the hell he wanted to do it. Damn teenagers and their deluded sense of entitlement, huh?

The back of my mind poked at me to go back for just a moment, at least to pry that last bit of whatever Renji had been intending to say out. But while I was debating, I kept walking, and I got farther and farther away. He'd probably already left himself to hunt down one of the bad guys.

Would he wonder where I was while I was gone? Would anyone? How much would they worry, if at all? How long would it take me, anyway? I wasn't even sure. A few days, at least. Maybe a week. Or two. I guess it depended on a few factors.

Damn, maybe this wasn't the best idea. I would be locked away in my own little world for all that time right after a major attack; what if someone seriously got hurt or killed or something? I wouldn't know about it until I got back. If I got back. Who knows - maybe I would die, too.

It wasn't until I shimmied my way halfway down town, cursing my lack of a jacket in the breezy autumn air, when I felt it. Or him. Ichigo. Out of the nest and soaring high.

I grinned despite myself, losing all doubt. "My turn. That offer had better still be open, Hirako."

* * *

**(A/N) About time, eh? I, no word of lie, got a little confused when logging in and trying to get this published, since it's been so long! I won't bother with any excuses, though. Hopefully the two-chapter update will make up for the insane wait.**

**Yes, yes. I said two-chapter update. The next one will be out (probably) by the time most of you are done reading this Author's Note. Because really, no one but me should be sitting at their computer at 10:00 AM on a beautiful Saturday in May.**

**BUT IMPORTANT INFO: The next chapter starts off with the lost Chapter 21, when Mikita was training with Urahara during the Bounto Arc. It's confusing, I know, but I'm only now realizing what a stupid decision I made in not posting it then and thinking it would work at some other point. The section after the italicized parts is present-day, set with the Vizards. Get it? Got it? Good!**


	24. Chapter 24

**On the Crossing to Choose**

Chapter Twenty-Four

* * *

Phase One: Relearning the Basics

"_You__'__re supposed to dodge when I move in to hit you.__"_

"_Oh, sorry. I thought this was _The Matrix_. See, I was waiting for everything to go into slow motion.__"_

"_Idiot.__"_

_Yeah, all right, I__'__d give him that one. But really, when he came at me so fast there was nothing to do _but_ clam up. That might be something I should change, though, if I didn__'__t want to die. But really, you had to give me a break: this was my first time training in almost a century, and I had only just gotten back from the Soul Socitey adventure (or at least it seemed)._

_Taimozou snorted from his lackadaisical stance atop one of the plateaus, a light steam pouring out of his nostrils. I watched in mild awe as his scales first began to tint silver, and then, soon after, became a blaze of sunset hues as his body phased into that of a traditional Chinese dragon. _

_Given his ability, I guess that fact that Taimozou never kept one physical form should be expected; he periodically morphed from some kind of bluish sea monster to a Longma or Godzilla-type dinosaur and back again. It was cool to watch, but when I took into consideration that all of those beasts would be after my blood it didn__'__t seem so very exciting. Then again, wasn't getting his physical form to materialize kind of a big deal? It had to mean something that I had accomplished it almost perfunctorily. _

_I snorted, pulling myself up to my knees and rubbing my shoulder reproachfully. I didn__'__t know whether to be thankful or insulted that Taimozou didn__'__t feel the need to take any serious slashes at me; so far he had just sort of surged forward and tackled me over and over again. I was sure to be one big bruise by tomorrow which, I think, was probably better than being chopped into more pieces than I knew how to count up to. Still, it__'__s not like I could call the sword-Taimozou into shikai form, seeing as his spirit was sort of coiled right in front of me. How was I supposed to beat a friggen__'__ chimera with a blunt rapier?_

_I asked him this, to which he simply glared through slitted, scarlet eyes. _

"_Don__'__t get too far ahead of yourself,__"__ he rumbled. If he had been an ignoramus bird of some sort I__'__m sure his feathers would have been puffed up in indignation. __"__You don__'__t have the will to protect yourself. If you want to save others, you have to save yourself first.__"_

_I quirked a brow. __"__What the hell does that mean? I don__'__t speak proverb, you know.__"_

_His lip curled up into a growl. The motion lost some of its effect as the canines rounded, though, and his form slimmed down into a more serpent-like structure. _

"_It means that you__'__re suicidal,__"__ the mauve snake hissed (pun intended). __"__You may say that you don__'__t want to die, but none of your actions reflect that. You run around weaponless, shoot off your mouth with infuriating verbal diarrhea and can__'__t be bothered to make any whole-hearted attempts to guard your own life. It__'__s as if you want to get hurt.__"_

_Psh, please. What an Drama Queen. _

_The simmering reptile turned a stunning emerald, sprouting lizard legs as his eyes tendered into topaz. _

"_You probably don__'__t even realize how miserable you are," he said, "but you need to get over that depression, regardless_. _**I**__ know how you feel and I__'__ll build you up to the point where you need to be. Stop rejecting your vulnerability and face it. The first step: duck!__"_

_He soared forward, barely giving me enough time to register the bullet at all before my head slammed into the dirt. _

"_Ow!__"_

_Taimozou__'__s claws dug into the earth, slowing down his momentum as the ground was torn open in his wake. I flipped myself onto my elbows so that I could shoot him a slightly more intimidating glare. Apparently he thought that was funny._

"_Before we can start on anything too direct,__"__ he smirked, __"__we need to work on your most basic survival instincts. Despite popular belief, you have close to none. No weapons for now, just your own sense.__"_

"…_Do I have any of that?__"_

"_It__'__s debatable.__"_

* * *

Phase Two: Conquering Kidou

"_Strength training is going to take a while in your case,__"__ Urahara preached, pacing before me with a smugness I could smell. I say smell because I was crumpled in the dirt then, highly doubting that I would be able to stand up within the next year - let alone _look_ up. __"__In the mean time, kidou should be fairly easy for you. Now that your body is basically impounded, we only need to exhaust your spiritual pressure until you are, as usual, entirely useless. This time, though, you'll have a legitimate excuse for it.__"_

_I stuck out my lower lip. __"__This is all just one big, elaborate plot to kill me, isn__'__t it?__"_

_Urahara giggled. __"__Perhaps.__"_

"_I knew the world was out to get me…__"_

_A throat cleared. __"__Boss, I have arrived to educated Kame-sama!__"_

_I eyed the new comer, Tessai, who I could have sworn was sparkling. _

"_Great,__"__ I sighed, gritting my teeth as I fought to right myself up, __"__send in the clowns.__"_

* * *

Phase Three: Focus

"_This is child abuse!__"_

"_Hmph, try bringing that to court.__"_

"_This is domestic abuse!__"_

"_Oh, so we__'__re family? I thought I was a_ part_ of you. It__'__s actually self-abuse.__"_

_I wasn__'__t in the mood to think up anything witty to prove my point. Instead, I glared up at the ever-sunny ceiling. _

"_How long has it been?__"__ I demanded, not really caring who answered. Everyone was there - Taimozou, Urahara, Tessai, Jinta and Ururu. At least one of them had to have been keeping track. __"__It__'__s been days! I need sleep and rest and a bathroom break!__"_

"_It__'__s been three hours, wimp,__"__ Jinta sneered through a mouthful of popcorn. __"__You__'__re in school everyday longer than that! I don__'__t know why you__'__re even botherin__'__ with this trainin__'__. You__'__re just gonna give up anyway.__"_

_I whined. Had it really only been a few hours? I was sure I had lost a good _ten_ of sleep! _

"_Actually, it__'__s been three hours since Jinta and Ururu finished their chores and came down to cheer you on,__"__ Urahara pointed out. __"__You were alone with Taimozou for five before that.__"_

_Eight was better, but still not enough to earn their pity._

"_Look,__"__ I groaned, trying to make myself appear as pathetic as possible. It wasn__'__t exactly hard when I legitimately couldn__'__t perform many more movements than your average slug. __"__Ichigo may be some kind of superhuman who can work for weeks without the strongly suggested seven hours of sleep per day, but I__'__m not! Stop comparing me to him, damn it!__"_

_Silence. _

_What. The. Hell. _

"…_She has a point,__"__ Urahara agreed a bit later on, holding his chin in his fingers. __"__She__'__s much more delicate than Ichigo and nowhere near as determined. We should be glad that she__'__s making any sort of attempt towards this training at all. Maybe a break would be a good idea.__"_

_I knew I tolerated that man for some reason. He was my soul mate! Assuming all of the good-looking young guys were eaten by rapid caterpillars, that is. _

_The blond clapped his hands, smiling merrily. __"__Okay! Let__'__s head upstairs and get some supper, everyone!__"_

_I sighed in delight, making to stand. Only I couldn__'__t. I couldn__'__t feel my legs. My legs! Or my arms. Or my torso. Or anything, really. _

"_W-wait you guys!__"__ I hollered after the retreating quartet, shoulders straining to pull my face up from the ground. __"__Don__'__t just leave me here!__"_

_They left me there. Damn bastards. It was a friggen__'__ desert - my yell had echoed across the entire place! They had heard me just fine and ignored it! I was so going to kill them all the minute I learned how to. And got the sensation back in my body._

_Quivering there on the floor and planning my very first murders (it would be a total Lizzie Borden type deal - I would innocently come home from school, take off my coat, go into the kitchen to greet my beloved family and find them all slaughtered. I would toss some onions into my eyes to get the tears flowing, mask my laughter in a horrified wail and run out to sob on the neighbors doorstep. Yeah…) I didn__'__t notice that Taimozou was still hanging around until he spoke. _

"_You might as well make use of this time,__"__ he said lowly. I perked up about as much as a cripple could. _

"_Well, I guess I could sleep in this position, even if it is a little hard and cold. I__'__m just worried about taking in sand when I inhale and choking…__"_

_Taimozou was quiet from behind me. __"__I wasn__'__t talking about that. Why don__'__t you try meditating?__"_

_I would have cackled in a way that would make Elphaba proud if it wouldn__'__t hurt me so much. __"__Yeah, right. You__'__re the only Zen Master here, Tai. I__'__d never be able to sit still for that long.__"_

_The frown on his face could be heard though his disapproving tone. __"__That__'__s exactly what I mean. You__'__re attention span is too short to accomplish anything in serious situations. You may not give in to nerves, but you get distracted far too easily._

"_You see, the art of meditation is about clearing one__'__s mind into a state of nothingness. When one can accomplished this, it means that they are stable in the mind and able to handle…__"_

_Blabbady friggen__'__ blah. Mushu over there could talk all he wanted about the ancient ways but this here was the twenty-first century. No one meditated anymore. It was impossible unless you were too old to hold a train of thought. Like anyone under a thousand years old could just empty their minds for long periods of time and not think about __anything__. I had tried it once when I was younger - it lasted about three seconds, tops. _

"…_do you understand?__"_

"_Yeah, sure. Let__'__s do it.__"_

_Or not. That works too._

* * *

"_Well, this hasn__'__t gone_… as badly _as I expected it would,__"__ Taimozou admitted grudgingly once Urahara and his gang returned some hours later. __"__Clearly you still have a long way to go before you__'__re any match for something of Ichigo__'__s caliber -__"_

_Again with Ichigo! Seriously, why didn__'__t they just start a new religion? _

"_- but you__'__ve done all of what I asked you to, albeit with minimum effort.__"_

_That was good enough for me._

"_I think it would be more beneficial for you to take a break for the night and get some sleep upstairs. Normally I__'__d suggest one consistent workout until you master what you need to, but you aren__'__t the type to respond well to that kind of plan nor are you in a situation where you need to reach your goal within a limited time period.__"_

_Hallelujah to that._

"_But while you__'__re away I want you to think about what it is you__'__re doing this for: what do you want to prove and to whom? How far are you willing to go to do it? Find an answer and keep that goal close to your heart. It__'__ll keep you going.__"_

_Hm, what if I didn__'__t _have_ a heart? Then that dream would just fall down through my intestines, eventually leave my body all together and be flushed down the toilet. Whoops…_

_Despite being completely numb, I crawled my way over to the latter and pulled myself up the steps. I wondered why that was the only entrance. Completely impractical._

* * *

_It was just typical that I couldn__'__t sleep that night. I wasn__'__t sure if it was the physical pain or my buzzing mind, but either way I was pissed. I so should have listened to that meditation lesson Taimozou had tried to teach me. The only thing I learned back there was that he couldn__'__t hear my thoughts when his spirit was out of my sword, seeing as the _My Little Pony_ theme had been replaying in my head that entire time, blocking out the rest of the world. _

_Would this work, this training thing? Even if I wanted it to, devoting myself to something just wasn__'__t my style. At least not in the usual way. I didn't like settling, or getting so close to something that my life would never be the same if it were to be lost. I would never be the person who declared their resolution and plowed through any obstacles in their way; I was more of a __"__suffer in silence__"__ kind of girl. Or relative silence, anyway. _

_I knew people usual got the wrong impression from me. Just because I was grudging and cracked a lame comedy act while I was doing something didn__'__t mean I didn__'__t care about it. I just wasn__'__t a somber person. I spoke my mind, which more often than not was stuck on pessimism. But that didn__'__t mean that I wasn__'__t serious about improving my skills. I wanted to get better, to protect myself and the others. I wanted to be taken seriously and have those special kinds of bonds that would make someone risk their life for me, and me for them. It was just hard. I wasn't used to that kind of thing. I was _terrified_ of that kind of thing._

_But for certain, on the other hand, I definitely didn__'__t want to be like Ichigo. If anything, I only wanted to get good enough to be able to take some of the pressure _off_ him. As prudish as he was, I hated that both this world and the Soul Society put him on a pedestal and looked to him to take care of anything. He was still a human - a fifteen-year-old boy. He shouldn__'__t have to be going through all of this stuff. _

_I wanted to prove to Renji that I wasn__'__t some mentally unstable psycho, too. Really, the guy must think that had eaten lead as a kid. First I was that weirdo he walked in on naked in his subordinate__'__s room, and the last time we had spoken I was bawling my eyes out on the roof. No, I didn__'__t want that kind of reputation. He had to know that I had a somewhat normal side (or at least a less insane one). I was going to sex him up, after all. I would prefer for it to be willing on his part._

_And to be perfectly honest, I was getting sick of this whole routine: the standoffishness, the attitude, the solitude. Bottom line: I didn__'__t want to be underestimated and dismissed, especially by myself. I guess Tai was right - I needed to have faith in myself before anyone else could. To do that, I needed to do something worth being proud of. I was my own worst judge, after all. _

_I only had to accept the fact that this may take a while. That was tough, and as frustrating as hell._

* * *

Phase 4: Lather, Rinse, and Repeat

_Taimozou looked like he had swallowed bleach. I crossed my arms, tapping my foot impatiently._

"_Uh,Tai, let__'__s get going already. What crawled up your butt?__"_

_He cleared his throat, some kind of oriental tiger at the moment, and shook his head to get rid of any residual thoughts._

"_I__'__m just surprised,__"__ he admitted, sounding a little shameful, __"__that you actually came back. I thought you__'__d abandon the effort after I let you leave last night, but… you__'__re here.__"_

_I rolled my eyes. __"__Duh! Now don__'__t make me regret it and get to teaching me, why don__'__t you?__"_

_Taimozou grinned. I wasn__'__t sure whether it was wickedly or encouragingly, seeing as his fangs gave it a mixed impression._

"_Well all right then…__"_

* * *

'_Left, left, right, sprint, jump, stop! Go go go go go go….ah, left? No - right, right, right - SHIT!__'_

_I tumbled along the dirt, glad that there weren__'__t any mountains for me to slam into this time. At least I could just roll around until my momentum ran out without getting bashed into a rock. It gave me more time to wallow. _

_When I did flop onto my back for the last time I grimaced upwards, seeing a circle of cute little Hibirds flying around my head like tiny yellow vultures. _

"_I should have gone left…__"_

"_And that__'__s why you trust your instincts,__"__ Taimozou said, making his way over now that he had accomplished beating me within an inch of death. __"__You second guessed yourself and paid for it. Don__'__t let it happen again.__"_

_Mocking him under my breath, I did my best to ignore the pins-and-needles (no, that was an understatement - it was more like narwhale horns-and-jackhammers) shooting through my body and pulled myself into a sitting position. __"__Yeah, yeah. I got it. Do you think I enjoy getting hit by a living bus?__"_

_He smirked. He__'__d be doing it a lot today, and was starting to freak me out. I mean, I got that he was sort of glad that I wasn__'__t being a total n00b like usual, but he didn__'__t have to make it so weird. I was too used to his monotonous attitude to accept this energy coming off of him. He was supposed to be an ageless sage-like figure, not a gleeful munchkin._

"_But you lasted for almost an hour that time before you slipped up,__"__ he praised, making me scratch me neck sheepishly. __"__You__'__re getting better.__"_

"_Yeah, better at running away,__"__ I grumbled. __"__I don__'__t get this anyway. Why are you spending all of this time having me dodge instead of be on the offensive side?__"_

"_Because you__'__re not an offensive fighter.__"_

"_Not if you don__'__t show me how to be.__"_

_Taimozou shook his saber-tooth head. __"__You don__'__t get it - you are not an offensive fighter. You__'__re more of an assistant. Backup. A diversion, if you will. You__'__ll never be one who goes out looking for conflict, but you__'__ll help those who do when they need it. As such, what you need to focus on is holding your own against the types of enemies who will stop at nothing to be ridded of you as quickly and brutally as possible. With these sorts of exercises, we are simultaneously building up your strength, reaction time, agility, speed, and overall structure.__"_

…_Wow. I didn__'__t know running around for hours did so much good to a gal. _

"_More or less, the point of this training is to build up your core and stability. You will mainly take part in battles that are initiated by the enemy or intended to hold them off, so we don__'__t need to put too much emphasis on fierce attacking, but strong defending.__"_

_Oh, swell, so I was just a pawn, huh? Whatever. I__'__d go along with it for now. It was the first step towards shocking them all when I went totally psychotic and conquered the universe. They__'__d least expect it from some measly __"__defender__"__._

"_That sounds really nifty,__"__ I grunted, swaying on my feet, __"__but let__'__s cut the commentary short and get back to business, eh?__"_

_A throaty chuckle filled the arena and I was off in a flash.I didn't want to admit it, but if you took away the agony it was sort of fun._

* * *

_Hadou 54: Waste Flame!__"_

_I couldn__'__t decide if I had lost all the feeling in my skin or just gotten used to the muscle strain by now, but as I blew a solid hole straight through one of the massive rock hills a hundred yards away I couldn__'__t honestly say I was in excruciating pain anymore. Actually, I felt kind of good. Tired as hell, but good. My breath was, somehow, a lot more clear and powerful. _

"_Excellent, Kame-sama!__"__ Tessai sobbed, apparently so happy with my kidou performance that it brought him to tears. My lips curled up with hubris._

"_Oh, it was nothing.__"_

_To prove the point I yawned a bit, brushing some dust off of my shoulder. I almost fell from the small movement but I caught myself before anyone could notice. _

"_It__'__s just as I thought,__"__ Urahara spoke up, just as smug as me. __"__Kidou__'__s no problem for you at all. Controlling your spiritual pressure is one thing, but let__'__s see just how much of it you have in you…__"_

_My teeth glittered challengingly. __"__Bring it on.__"_

"_What __'__chu want, Foo? You wanna take me on? Ha! Let me see you try! Come on, kitty!__"_

_Taimozou__'__s good mood couldn__'__t be dampened. __"__Oh? Aren__'__t you confident.__"_

"_You bet, Foo!__"_

_He frowned suddenly. __"__What are you calling me?__"_

_I put my air-punches on hold, blinking. __"__Oh, it__'__s a pun. You know, like Mister T calling everyone __"__foo,__"__ like __"__fool,__"__ because we__'__re both just that cool. And plus you__'__re one of those Fu Lions right now, so it works both ways.__"_

"_I… see.__"_

_He totally didn__'__t, but that__'__s just because he wasn__'__t anywhere near as awesome as Mr. T and I. _

"_Anyway,__"__ he went on, __"__calm yourself down. It__'__s time to meditate again.__"_

"_Psh,__"__ I scoffed, __"__please! I__'__m all hyped up, Tai! That stupid stuff doesn__'__t do me any good. Let__'__s move on to fighting! The real fighting, not that __"__defending__"__ trash you__'__ve been putting me through. Do it the real way from now on, like Ichigo did it! Boy, when that brat comes back I__'__ll show him a thing or two! I__'__ll give him a left hook, and then a right, and then an uppercut and watch him gag up blood and bow down to me and -__"_

_And suddenly I couldn__'__t breath. It didn__'__t strike me that I was soaring through the air until I landed - hard - on the earth. _

"_**You**__ are the fool,__"__ Taimozou__'__s menacing tone filled my ears as I convulsed. __"__Bring your head out of the clouds and use your head. Do you remember what you said during that first fight, when Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji came for the very first time and took Kuchiki Rukia from you?__"_

_Even if I knew the answer, I was still too busy trying to refill my lungs with oxygen. _

"_Then let me refresh your memory:_ 'It's what being human's all about. We take responsibility for ourselves and our actions, and even when we know we can't win we fight anyway. We won't just stand by and let someone we care about die just because you tell us there's nothing we can do. Even if we know that you're right, that's not going to stop us from trying. I may not know exactly what's going on here, but when someone attacks me and people I care about, no matter what the reason, I'm not about to just stay away. If Ichigo was willing to give his life to keep Rukia from you, then I'm taking over for him now that he's down.'_"_

_I struggled for breath, wanting to respond but not knowing what to say. What was going on with him? Why was he suddenly so angry with me? How - why - had he committed that speech to memory?_

_Sensing my mental deliberation, Tai took a deep breath, slowly pawed his way to my side, and plopped down in the dirt._

"_I had been sleeping for so long before that night,__"__ he recalled wistfully. __"__Nearly a hundred years. You don__'__t know, I don__'__t think, but it was your spirit that called out for me to open up my eyes again, when you were desperate to help your companions. You__'__d sealed me away into that ring, wanting to hide from who you are. I__'__ve never really liked you, you know that, but it was at that moment when you stood up for your friends rather than yourself and vowed to serve them that I realized there was more to you than I thought. You__'__re still trying to bury it, though, and I wish you wouldn__'__t. The journey will take time, but your moving along in the right direction. Someone may just be able to bring that side of you out from the shadows and make it stay. It won__'__t be me, but it will be someone.__"_

_I was now able to breath, but for some reason I wouldn__'__t. _

"_I asked you to think about why you__'__re doing this, and what your goal is. I believe it__'__s been something you__'__ve known all along but just refuse to realize until the worst possibly moment when it__'__s too late. What we need to do is drill that goal into your head so that you will remember it at all times, and not just when you__'__re regretting leaving it unfulfilled.__"_

_My energy was completely sapped. Was he serious? I was just supposed to lay here and think about all of that depressing stuff? I already knew it. I knew why I was here, training, and I didn__'__t need to be reminded. Being able to look out for myself and the others, being acknowledged, being a part of something greater than myself: that was all too dramatic for me, as true as it was. I didn__'__t want to think like that all of the time. I wanted to have a real life that didn__'__t revolve around saving the world, like Ichigo__'__s did now. That kind of constant thinking had ruined him, but I wouldn__'__t fall into the same trap. I__'__d be there to relieve some of the pressure, but I wouldn__'__t take all of it on._

_So, the goal that I decided to link myself to had nothing to do with taking on another great foe like Aizen or the Bounts, getting as strong as possible or defying all odds. I just wanted to do _something_. I didn__'__t need a flashy title or my name written down in history, I just needed to be one of those nameless soldiers who were a part of the cause. It was a humble dream but I guess, deep down, I was a pretty humble person. _

_I know. Who would have guessed, right? But all the same..._

* * *

"Damn!" I wailed, falling hard into the dirt. Dirt. Why is it always dirt?

"Quit starin' off inta space like that," Hiyori said with a click of her tongue. "You're here to train, not that I understand why in the first place. There's nothin' special 'bout ya."

"Now, now, Hiyori," Shinji soothed dully, walking up with his hands in the pockets of his slack. "Don't be too hard on 'er. She hasn't had much proper trainin', after all. Besides, she's not **that** bad."

I clambered up to my knees, sputtering. Gee, what a confidence booster.

Hiyori lifted her lip towards the former Fifth captain. "Don't be tellin' me what to do, asshole! You haven't helped at all. All you've done is stand off the the side there watchin' with those cow eyes 'a yours!"

"Yes, I've been observin' her progress carefully, an' I've come to a life-altering conclusion: After the years that've passed, I realize that all along it's been Mikita who is my true first lo-"

The sandal that had been responsible for plowing me into the ground had moved on to tattoo Shinj's cheek.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU JERK! I'M SICK OF YOU SAYIN' THINGS LIKE THAT TO EVERYONE ELSE BUT ME!"

Yep, I was seriously reconsidering this decision to let these people take care of me, too. They were very clearly _not all there_ mentally. I didn't even know what Shinji had been about to say to earn that kind of reaction from Hiyori. Then again, it really didn't take much for a fight to break out around here.

"Well, sorry for not living up to your expectations," I grumbled, climbing to my feet and slapping the dust from my cloths.

"You suck," the tiny (but vicious) blond stated. "How the hell do ya think your gonna be fighting against these Arrancars at the level you're at now?"

I wrinkled my brow, saying, "That's kind of the point - you're supposed to teach me."

"Screw that."

"You're just bitter because I didn't remember you."

"I am not! I don't give a fuck if you remember me or not!"

"Really, I don't get why you guys were so surprised. It was more than a hundred years ago. Am I supposed to remember people I met more than a hundred years ago in full detail?"

"I told ya I didn't care! Shut it, Kame, and get back to work! We've got a lot of it to do if you're really set on being ready for the winter."

Quarrelling with the spunky little brat was somewhere between amusing and irritating when made verbal, but our physical clashes were nothing to laugh about. I bristled.

"Yeah, about that," I said slowly, carefully, "I think it might be time for a break, you know? We've been at it for a while now and, as you pointed out, I was starting to get distracted. How about we get a bite to eat with the others and then take a breather?"

Thanks to my previous training with Taimozou at the shouten, my body was more durable and able to handle pain, but I figured my focus still needed a little (really, just a tad) bit of work. I fully intended to find a nice quiet place and have a chat with Taimozou, or maybe just kick back and saturate myself in resolution.

"You lazy little bitch," Hiyori rasped in a near deadpan. I winced, expecting her to explode at any moment. "I should beat ya so hard you'd be lucky to wake up by winter, but ya do have a point. I'm hungry."

Saved by the cries of a stomach in need.

The three of us trampled our way over to the rest of the group, who were on the other side of the desert-like arena (again, why was it _always_ a desert?). A part of me wondered why they would all just gather down here and loll around, but when you took into consideration that this was a (supposed) hide-out and they barely stepped foot into the outside world, me showing up was probably like their version of the Super Bowl.

They were a curious bunch, for sure. I hadn't formally met them all, but they didn't seem much like the formal type, despite their previous renown in the Seiteitei. Not one of them was below vice-captain level, apparently, which was only slightly intimidating. It was more of that fact that none of them had showed any signs of being particularly friendly that made the meal that much more awkward. Normally I might have tried to start up a conversation while we ate, but it was pretty daunting just being within sight of these powerful people who had absolutely no interest in you.

We were all quite for a bit, until the Sailor Moon girl in braids spoke up.

"I'm Lisa," she said, somewhat randomly, although I appreciated the effort.

"Mikita." I nodded towards the magazine at her side, wanting to make small talk now that the opportunity had risen. "What are you reading?"

She wasn't put out in the least by setting down her lunch and handing the bound papers over. I cast a glance down at the bundle, only registering the nude female breast on the cover before returning it.

"Nice"

Great. She was a pervy lesbian.

"It's not what you think," Lisa assured me, apparently knowing exactly what was going through my head. "I read it for the stories. They're really good. In this issue, for instance, Jacque finds out that his lover Frisky is secretly having sexual relations with -"

"No!" objected another Vizard, this one a man I could only describe as Hansen's more doped-out father. "Don't spoil the plot, Lisa! You know I haven't read that one yet."

"- with his long-lost identical twin Franz. Yes, I remember that one," the relative of Rock Lee spoke up. I suppressed a shudder. Were they all into those porn books? Jeez, this place was like prison. I hope the 'don't bend down in the shower' rule didn't apply here, in the training room. They _would_ be lonely after so long of a time locked in here alone...

The beast beside the man in the green outfit (who seemed to not only be one of the most normal of the Vizards, but was also delightfully attractive) grit his teeth.

"Would you all just shut your traps," he said, tone the deep growl of a Grizzly Adams kind of guy. "I'm tryin' to eat here."

"Mind your manners, Kensei," Lisa admonished. "We have a guest."

"But _**why**_?" a new-age Spice Girl literally shrilled. "I don't get it, I don't get it! She's not a Vizard like Ichigo and she doesn't have any weird-o powers like that other annoying girl! Why. Is. She. _Here_~!"

The one I had learned was Kensei snapped his chopsticks in half as the girl began rolling around in a violent fit. "Stop screaming like that, Mashiro!"

"Make me!"

"I'll _kill _you!"

"Try it!"

I was sweating a little as I watched the silver-haired brute leap up and chase after the petite space cadet. Lisa and her fellow conspirer had huddled together to discuss the latest update in their preferred literature while the hippie covered his ears and seemed to be singing to himself (for some reason, I pictured it to be Kenny Rogers).

Well, at least the ice was broken. Sort of.

Following that display, there wasn't much else for me to do but take a deep breath and gulp up a suffocating bite of my hot dog. I struggled to chew, unable to keep all of the food inside of my mouth with the motions, and barely managed to keep myself from gagging. It was probably the worst time to try addressing me, but that's when the last unidentified member of the Vizards chose to make his move.

"Hello," the blimp of a man said, his voice (bizarrely) reminding me of a pillow. I guess it had something about the soft-spoken kindness that radiated from his throat.

Squinting upwards (and looking like a total drunk, I realized, with dribbles of ketchup and relish running down my chin), I decided that, as colorful as his companions were in personality, he probably substituted that insanity with his appearance. He seemed nice enough so far, though.

"Hahy. 'M Meeita."

I should have taken the time to swallow and wipe my face before speaking, but unfortunately that wasn't the way things worked out.

"My name is Ushouda Hachigen, but please call me Hachi," the pink-haired giant said with a smile, not offering anything more than innocent sincerity as I mauled my mouth with a napkin. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for the others, however; we don't get visitors often, so you and your friends showing up almost back-to-back is very exciting for us all!"

Yeah, sure. The were just _excited_.

Playing the part of a pampered guest, I fluttered my eyelashes in acknowledgement. Hachi gave a gentle grin.

Yeah, it was a curse: forever surrounded by freaks, I was.

* * *

"Do you know who it is yet?"

"No idea."

"You're lying."

"Not entirely."

I shifted, not comfortable with the position or conversation. Taimozou was still stuck on getting me to fall into some kind of philosophical state, and apparently sitting Indian style on a boulder was the only way to reach it. And beside that, his nagging wasn't really helping. Even if I did know who the prophetic person was who would apparently show me the error of my ways or whatever, did Tai think I would just out and say it? I didn't buy into it in the first place; Taimozou may be my zanpakutou, but that didn't make him a God or soothsayer or anything.

"I don't know why you care in the first place," I mentioned, deeming the pensive mood officially shot between the eyes and killed. "I mean, I do know why, but why you're being so pushy about it - especially now. Is it really that important?"

I didn't need to open my eyes (because you couldn't try to meditate, of course, without going full-on Siddhartha, with the Ohm fingers and everything) to know that Taimozou, whatever the hell kind of animal he was at the moment, was scowling.

"It might just be the key to everything," he said, oh-so-knowledgeable. "Don't take it too lightly."

"I'm doing fine on my own," I protested. "See? I'm being a good little Girl Scout here. And anyway, who says it has to be one person who changes my whole view on life? That sounds like some kind of fairy tale, soul mate fable. What if it's more like a community orgy? Peer pressure or something, you know?"

I was nearly one hundred percent sure Taimozou was staring at me like my eyebrows were under my eyes instead of above them. "Never mind the technicalities," he droned. "Either way, the purpose is the same. Get on it as soon as possible."

How exactly was I supposed to get on finding my one (or two or three or more) "key to change" when I was too buy dealing with more pressing matters? Easy - I wouldn't.

"Sure. Right after I'm done playing my part in saving the world."

"Smart ass."

"No, really."

"And I'm a monkey's uncle."

"You're Renji's uncle?"

"Of course not." Taimozou's tone had a definite playfulness in it. "That would mean something incestuous for you, wouldn't it?"

My eyes snapped open, along with my jaw, and I turned my attention to Taimozou in shock. He smirked, horse-like head cocked. "Did you forget? I'm a part of you. I see all of the secrets you try to bury in the depths of your soul an erase from reality. There's no dishonesty between us, Mikita."

"Y-you don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know better than you do."

"Maybe you're confusing my rejected feelings for your own. Huh? Ever thought about that one, buddy?"

My face twisted up in success. Yeah, suck on that one, Tai. He could beat me in body, but never in mind!

"Perhaps," he submissed, making my look turn sour, "but I'd still have to go through you to get to him, woudn't I?"

"Nope. Just let me have him for one night and then he's all yours."

"Meaning you have claims to him, correct?"

I shifted, not happy with this conversation. "No, I just don't take sloppy seconds."

Taimozou sighed, ever the suckish actor, and stared into the artificial clouds. "Still, I suppose both of us are out of luck. He is in love with Rukia. Or hadn't you noticed?"

It took me a minute to realize that I hadn't actually been stuck with a blunt weapon in the chest. What the hell did this guy think he was playing at?

"You don't know that," I mumbled, pulling my shoulders back and trying to slip into a meditative state. No train of thought sounded pretty good right now. "Now leave me alone, I have work to do."

It was probably only sheer force of will that allowed me to let go of all wandering thoughts that day. But still, I didn't feel so accomplished about it. I felt kind of sick. I was well familiar with ditching stray voices that I wanted out of my head, but this time it was a little more delicate. Or I was a little more delicate, I guess.

I bet Rukia wasn't delicate.


	25. Chapter 25

**On the Crossing to Choose**

Chapter Twenty-Five

* * *

There were probably a few times in the course of my long, long life when I may have been called masochistic.

It wasn't true. At all. Pain hurt me, as it should any sane person. I didn't take pleasure from it in the least, which is part of why I had avoided potentially pain inducing activities.

Training was, of course, a potentially pain inducing activity. It also, when done right, lead to bona fide fighting. That, too, upped the stakes of physical discomfort; people actually _tried_ to hurt you (not that I would let myself dare to believe Hiyori was anywhere near concerned about my bodily harm now). I heard you could even die from extreme physical trauma, if you could believe it. And, seeing as we the Soul Reaper race ran around attempting to impale each other with sturdy steel sticks, the chances of getting hurt (and dying) seemed, to my admittedly simple mind, pretty damn sky-high. It sort of made me wonder why we – or anyone, for that matter – did it.

"What the fuck's your problem, Kame? Why aren't ya gettin' any better at this? Are ya even tryin' anymore?"

"Screw you." The curse oozed through my teeth as I dodged another of my coach's ultra-aggressive swipes. Taimozou, back in zanpakutou form, hung limp and unreleased in my hands.

"Stop that dodgin' bullshit and come after me already," Hiyori scathed, pulling back from her offensive role for the moment. I mimicked the motion, sliding to a halt and facing her, breathing heavy.

"Sorry, but that's not gonna happen," I ground out, at the end of my proverbial wick. "Apparently I don't play that way. I'm just a side-kick. It's the only thing I'm good for."

"Damn straight it is," was the ever-so inspirational response. "I don't know why I'm botherin' ta' waste my time on your ungrateful ass!"

"Neither do I," I said, tone a low rumble. Hiyori, while genuinely angry, also let a flash of surprise pass over her expression before the glare returned.

"What the hell's goin' on with you? You've been all piss and vinegar for the past couple days now. If yer not inta' this trainin' anymore, then no one's makin' ya stay!"

That was basically the last straw for me. "Okay, then I'm leaving."

Again, Hiyori's face betrayed a hint of hurt. It soon vanished in favor of the common snarl, though. "Whadidya say?"

My eyes rolled. "I said I'm gonna make like a flea and flee. Bye."

"W-whah? Hey, get back here!"

But I was already stalking my way to the massive staircase, not letting myself so much as think about the group of Vizards that had gone silent close by in their campfire huddle. I was just about to reach the base of the structure when the skin between my shoulder blades tingled, and I only just managed to jerk my torso to the side and yank Tai up to meet Hiyori's Kubikiri Orochi.

I grit my teeth, my eyes squinting shut in the effort it took to hold her back. Tai was, after all, about as thin as a razor blade, giving me absolutely no leverage over the smaller girl and her legitimate sword. The predicament pushed my patience over the edge, and I really didn't even think about what I was doing until Taimozou wasn't really Taimozou anymore, but Shinsou.

Despite my red vision, it didn't take the most critical eye in the world to catch the pulse of friction that came over the company as a result of my move, or the bizarre way Hiyori was staring at the morphed Taimozou pressed against her own blade, now fifty feet away.

Before either of us had the chance to escalate the action, Shinji was there to play peacemaker, bringing out his soul slayer and laying it across the extended, false Shinsou as a precautionary measure.

"Alright, alright," he drawled, not smiling for once in his life. "Let's calm down now, ev'ryone."

Taking notice of both his mood and wording, I spared a moment to release Hiyori from my predatory stare and scan the rest of the establishment. All of the Vizards, I saw, were stiff where they stood (or sat), eyes trained on Taimozou-Shinsou with varying emotions, some screened and others as clear as thin air.

Panting and only then feeling the line of sweat on my brow, I heeded Shinji's implied command and retracted Tai into his original form. Now that it was over and done with, some foggy part of my brain realized that this whole thing may have been one big overreaction. I really didn't know what I was so upset about, so it wasn't all that fair to be taking it out on the people who had volunteered their own time (granted, they did have plenty of it) to help me. And maybe using Shinsou of all zanpakutou wasn't the wisest choice when its real wielder was one of the guys behind the Vizards' very existence, but I wasn't even sure if all the tension was actually because of that or just from the explosive display I had just put on.

Either way, I didn't care to let them know that I was sorry. I would save that for a time when I had cooled down and figured out what was wrong for myself.

Shinji let out a hefty breath, bring a few long fingers up to comb through his bangs.

"I don't know what's goin' on…" His eyes trailed from me to Hiyori. "…but we're not the ones in charge here. If Mikita's ready ta' go, then we're gonna let 'er go."

"Let her go?" Hiyori sneered in a shriek. "You're just gonna let her walk out before she accomplishes anything, Shinji? What the hell's the lesson in that? That's why she's so damn flighty – she never had anyone makin' her stay! She'll waltz in all ready and willing when someone puts her down, but she just walks out when she realizes that bein' a shinigami ain't a fuckin' cake walk! If we keep givin' her that power, then what the hell resolve will she have to stick–"

"That's exactly the point, Hiyori."

Despite the severity of the moment, I couldn't help but scoff. As if I didn't know where Shinji was going with this, right?

"The only one with the power ta' decide Mikita's resolve is Mikita," he said. I could practically predict his monologue in my mind. "We can be here fer her once her mind is made up once and fer all, but until then it's all on her. We may not like it, but that's the way it's gotta be." I could feel his eyes shift over to land on me, but I kept my stare stubbornly averted. "No more a' this yo-yo trainin', Mikita. I think it's best if ya leave now and think about things a little more. Come back when ya decide fer good, if ya ever do decide fer good."

Because deciding that I didn't want to be the warrior they wanted me to be meant that I was the enemy or something, I guess. Besides, even when I _did_ decide for good to really put some effort into something, I still ended up backing out before I got in too far. I was just a lost cause and shouldn't even bother trying. It was a mental thing. A disease.

"Well, now that I have your permission," I said, basically to myself, before starting once again towards the staircase. There was something about the exit that didn't feel right, though. Maybe it was just too dramatic for my tastes, but that sickeningly familiar churning in my gut said otherwise. I hated feeling guilty, especially when I thought back to the times when I could have done something like this without a single twinge of discomfort.

I paused half way up the ramp, knowing that if I didn't take care of this feeling now it would just stay on my chest forever (like all the emotions I'd held back for the past hundred years, really.)

"Just for the record," I called, pretending I was saying it all in my head so that it was easier to say at all. It didn't really work that well when I had to speak from the depths of my chest so that my voice would carry. "…I've heard this sort of thing plenty of times before, so it's not just you guys I'm not listening to." Actually, of all the times I've heard this sort of thing it'd always been coming from a shinigami, and I'd only been involved them for a few months now. They really did cause more trouble than they were worth. "It doesn't matter the wording or who's saying it, there's just no effect on me. So no offense, or anything."

"I think the who might matter, as a matter a' fact."

If I didn't know any better, I'd have to say that Urahara had dug a hole from the store to the warehouse and popped into Shinji's body to give me that kind of cryptic prophecy. It was probably just a Court Guard captain sort of thing, that future-seeing wisdom. They all seemed to have it. Part of the job requirement, maybe.

"Yeah," I said shortly, jutting my chin out to the side to glance askance behind me, "I don't think so."

I refused to think so.

* * *

The walk home didn't bother me. It was dark out, go figure, but the cool air felt indescribably crisp and clean after being locked up underground for so long. I wasn't even afraid, either, rather loving the isolation I had been missing out on. How long had I been gone, anyway? I hadn't really bothered to keep track. A few days at least. I vaguely remembered the circumstances that I had walked away from when I took off: Arrancar had just shown up in Karakura for a show-down, and Ichigo was jutting off to save the day as always. I wondered if anyone had been hurt during the scuffle, and if they had even realized my absence during it. I tried to tell myself not to be offended if the answer was no, considering there were probably so many other things going on at the time and I wasn't exactly top priority. Still, that would be quite the blow to the good ol' ego.

I shrugged all of the thoughts off, figuring worrying about them wouldn't change anything anyway. Just walk in like you'd never left, Mikita, and everything would be A-okay.

I found myself hesitating outside of the Shouten doors, though, despite my little internal vow. I wasted about a minute just seeing how long I could suck in a single breath of air before my lungs felt ready to burst, and at that climax, before I could do anything otherwise, I flung open the door.

"Honey, I'm home!" I chirped, my eyes darting around the store. It was empty, which I guess wasn't exactly unusual for that time of night, so I made my way in and shimmied on to the housing section like I owned the place. All was empty there too, and I only spared a moment to stand in the dining room like a gorilla who lost her banana before letting it go and heading towards my bedroom.

Once there, I made an immediate bee-line towards my dresser for some clean cloths; even after criticizing Ichigo for going off to the Soul Society without an overnight bag during that Bount incident, I'd neglected to do it myself with the Vizards. I'd been wearing the same outfit for a couple days now, and it wasn't like I'd just been laying around the entire time. The fabric on my back was soaked in sweat and grime and dirt and more reiatsu samples than sperm on a hotel mattress. I'd probably have to burn them now, but at least I hadn't exactly dressed to impress in the first place.

I scurried along the hallways to the bathroom, realizing that it was for the best that no one see me until I was cleaned up anyway. Still though, it was strange that not even Ururu or Jinta were around. Maybe the family had gone out for a late night ghost hunt without me?

* * *

Morning inevitably came, finding me tangled up in a wave of blankets. As wonderful as it was to sleep in my own bed for as long as my body wanted me to, I wished I would have thought to wash my sheets and pick up the place a little before I'd left so the room would feel as fresh and light as I did after bathing, but beggars couldn't be choosers. It wasn't such a bit deal when compared to the fact that the house was completely silent. Had it been any normal day, I would have fallen in love in the occurrence, asked it to marry me, and bared twelve of its children, but something about it then was just plain unsettling. It was quiet - _too_ quiet.

It didn't take me too long to roll out of bed after such a revelation, so I filled up time by picking out an outfit somewhat more formal than lounger wear, making sure my hair was smoothed out, and working the sleep-gunk out of the corner of my eyes before presenting myself to the family. That turned out to not have much of a point, because when I left my room and stopped in the kitchen for some food no one was around again. And when I passed into the dining room to eat, even it was devoid of any breathing life forms.

"What the hell," I grumbled, plopping down onto the ground and putting my bowl of cereal on the table before me. I made conversation with myself as I ate, wondering what had happened to everyone. Did they all die or something? That would kind or suck for me. Or maybe they were all kidnapped and Aizen had taken them in as slaves. That would kind of suck for them. I wonder what the Soul Society was going to do about it. Either way, it looked like I had the place to myself from now on, right? It was sort of like I'd always planned, only I'd hoped Urahara would have left behind some kind of guide book on how he manages to avoid FDA standards and such. Not that the place was a pigsty or anything, but if any government workers had really looked in to the condition of the building that desert in the basement probably would have raised a few eyebrows.

I had just about finished moaning over the fact that I'd lost Jinta and Ururu's labor force when I also finished my breakfast. I rolled up onto my feet and made my way back to the kitchen to drop the dishes off in the sink. I stepped through the threshold and paused, seeing Tessai there wiping down the counters.

"Oh," I spoke up, "you're alive, huh? Does this mean it's just you and me from here on out?"

Lord, I hoped not. Tessai was harmless and everything, but I couldn't help but be freaked out by the idea of the two of us sharing a house on our own. At least he'd take care of all the cleaning, I guess, if we're looking on the bright side.

Tessai looked up, his arm frozen in the middle of its motion.

"Kame-sama, you've returned," he said as he straightened, leaving the sponge where it landed and crossing his arms over his broad chest. I looked up at him, feeling oddly intimidated. "I expect you've yet to be informed of the current situation."

I bounced my weight between my feet. "Well, I have a few theories, but something tells me they're not exactly likely. You know me and my theories."

Tessai didn't smile, but then again he rarely did. I sucked in some air between my teeth, averting my gaze under his stare. I might not have been able to see his eyes drilling me from behind his ever-fogged glasses, but I could definitely feel them.

"Urahara-sama is downstairs in the training facility," the kidou master said at last. "You should go speak with him."

I nodded, not having any disputes at all with the idea of getting out of the room. I dropped my bowl off at the closest expanse of counter top before skedaddling out or there with my tail between my legs.

* * *

Being in another underground dirt pile was nauseating, and I didn't bother to try to stop myself from curling my upper lip as I hopped off the ladder. The Vizards definitely had the right idea with that extended staircase of theirs, so I'd have to pass on the knowledge to Urahara whenever I did run into him.

I began trekking across the land, aimless at first and then realizing that I could just sniff out the old man's spiritual pressure to save searching time (which I, of course, could have done right in the beginning when I couldn't find anyone the night before, _der_). With that done, it was only a simple matter of flash-stepping to Urahara's side.

He was standing in front of the frame of his personal portal to outside worlds, which only happened to be there whenever we needed it. I stared at it, too, putting the pieces together in my own way.

"So, did you finally crack and push the whole lot of them into Limbo?"

The corner of Urahara's lips twitched up, but there wasn't any real humor behind it. I was starting to get nervous; something serious had to be going on to have him and Tessai in these no-nonsense, weird-o moods.

"Not exactly," he said, his tone a husky hum. "But Ichigo and the others are in Hueco Mundo, and the shinigami have returned to the Soul Society."

I put my hands in my pockets, hunching my shoulders as I rocked forward. My eyes hadn't widened enough for him to notice, had they? "Okay, so what's the deal then? I thought we weren't ready to take on the Arrancars and were gonna wait until they came to us in the winter?"

"That was the plan, but a few things have changed since you left." Urahara turned to me, his face shrouded in shadow but the surface of his eyes reflecting light. I could taste the intensity. "You see, we believe that Aizen was interested in Orihime's abilities and brought her to Hueco Mundo as a prisoner. The Soutaichou disagrees, and the team of soul reapers that were assigned to the area returned to the Soul Society under his orders to stay out of the situation."

I probably should have felt some kind of asteroid fall out of the painted sky and come plowing into my gut when the truth came out and hit me, but in all honesty I barely felt a poke.

"Oh," was the only thing I could say off the top of my head. I figured that probably wouldn't cut it, so I struggled for a moment before putting out a, "damn."

Maybe it was stupid, but the whole thing was a little hard to wrap my mind around. I mean, Orihime? Of all the interesting characters hanging around, Aizen wanted to take _Orihime_? Sure her healing thing might be cool, but Aizen seemed like his head was way too far up his own ass to worry about flesh wounds. I think a part of me couldn't take the whole thing as seriously as everyone else clearly was; there had to be something else to it. I wondered if Ichigo was helping or hurting her cause by giving chase so soon, even if the rescue was inevitable.

"Well," I went on, clapping my hands together before me and lacing my fingers, "I guess there's nothing else to do but wait for them to come back with the verdict, am I right? No use in getting ourselves worked up over something we have no control over."

I sucked on my bottom lip, watching Urahara from the corner of my eye. He was doing the same.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, feeling a faint yet familiar flare of fury building up at the snap of a figurative finger. "You have no right. How often have _you_ just hung around here doing nothing after throwing Ichigo out to the sharks?"

"Point taken," Urahara conceded, withdrawing his gaze and bringing it back to the portal. He stayed in that position for an extended moment before turning on his heel and making for the general direction of the ladder. "But just think about something, Mikita." He ever-so-predictably paused, lifting his chin to catch my eye from over his shoulder. "How do you feel about being just like me?"

* * *

It was funny how much I hated school. Only not really. But it was funny in an oh-my-Gackt-that-is-so-unoriginal way when the school day passed by as if I were in a wind tunnel; the conversation and action around me was blurred and echoing, just like every single movie ever made depicted the world around their mentally distracted protagonist.

I'd always said I was going to take over Urahara's job one say, hadn't I? I would take over the shop and make it into some Willy Wonka Wonderland and, even if I'd never really thought about it seriously, I'd probably have the same insane approach towards customers. And if there was to be another Ichigo around whenever that time came, I barely doubted that I would do things any differently than Urahara; I'd hold secrets I didn't feel like telling, help in my own round-about way, and be the bridge between him and that other realm that I would only serve an animated encyclopedia for. We both _could_ do more than we were if we really wanted to, but didn't. Actually, the only real difference between Urahara and I was the fact that he had been a good guy before giving it up to live as a recluse, while I gave up any chance at being a good guy to live as a recluse. We were both bitter and somber and hiding it in our own deranged, would-be-chipper ways.

We were pretty messed up. And was it just me, or was I not the only one feeling it?

I might have been semi-lost in my own little world, but I wasn't totally oblivious. I realized that Tatsuki was quietly seething in her seat, shooting me contemplative glances throughout the day. Keigo had yet to make a single obnoxious move in the five hours we'd been in the same room, and Mizuiro's puppy-face looked like it'd been hit with a rolled up newspaper. I could also pick up the slightest traces of spiritual pressure on them when the thought occurred to me to search for it (after hanging around Ichigo and the legit reapers for so long, the sparks they gave off were nearly under the radar). I didn't bother to think about what that meant when paired with their behavior and the recent happenings in the city, though. Ignorance is bliss, at least until ignorance is impossible.

As the day wound down and our algebra lesson came into play, I entertained myself by playing word games with the variables on the board. By the time the bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats as if the desks had suddenly turned in to iron maidens, I'd invented at least seven new words to add to the dictionary.

Somewhat subdued by my success, I got out of my chair and swung my bag onto my shoulder, making for the door with an unnamed country song playing in my head. I made it into the hallway and got about half way down before a hand on my arm stopped me, forcing the chorus to be cut off smack dab in the middle as I turned around.

Now, Tatsuki wasn't the type of girl to get worked up. She was one of the top female fighters in Japan, and I could only imagine how stress-less her life must be when she got to take out any frustration she felt throughout the day by bashing her fist into an innocent sparring partner's body. I'd always assumed that was why she was so laid back during school hours.

Maybe she'd been banned from the gym and didn't have any faces to punch in with probable cause, because Tatsuki wasn't looking particularly laid back that day. On the contrary, she was the polar opposite of laid back. Eyes glistening and surrounded by sunken purple skin, hair lanker that I was used to seeing it, and breathing just the slightest bit off; this Tatsuki wasn't the same Tatsuki I was used to.

I blinked at her for a minute or two, wondering what way the encounter was going to go. The way I saw it, she would either throw herself at me and sob into my shoulder or throw herself at me and rip my larynx out with her teeth. I didn't know which, but I didn't want either.

Tatsuki's lips pressed together in a tight line, and her grip on my wrist squeezed down. "Why are you here?"

Her words were flat, but her eyes had taken on a flicker of fire. I couldn't tell whether it was an angry one or a sad one.

"Uh," I sputtered, my eyes darting around between all the kids that were passing and laughing and not noticing the tension at all. "Why am I here, in this hallway, heading towards the door at the end of the school day, you mean?"

She didn't back down, but I could see then that the spark in her eye was more from the former feeling than the latter.

"I mean," I went on, barely registering whatever the hell my mouth was spouting, "I never took you as the philosophical type, so I guess you don't mean why am I here, in this world or reality or whatever, and what is my purpose for living. Or you know what, maybe you do. That's fine. Really deep of you to ponder the meaning of-"

"Stop it!"

Now all those kids that were passing and laughing were noticing the tension.

"Just stop it, Mikita," Tatsuki said, her indoor voice forced. Her fingers constricted further around my wrist. "I'm not going through this again. I get it. Ichigo wouldn't answer anything either, but at least he's gone now. I know something happened to Orihime, and I know Ichigo and the others went after her, so why didn't you? Isn't Orihime your friend? Don't you care about her?"

Even if I knew better than to avoid Tatsuki's eyes, I was still extremely tuned in to the motionless hallway; did all of the other kids leave already, or were they all just standing there watching and listening?

"Let's take this somewhere else, Tatsuki," I said, trying to make sure the conversation was between the two of us only. Other people overhearing would only lead to a bad time.

"No, I don't care," she protested, tugging on my arm to emphasize the point. "I told you, I don't need to know everything. I don't _want_ to know everything! I just want to know why Orihime isn't important enough to you. Why wouldn't you go after her with the rest of them? What's keeping you here?"

I had nothing to say to her. Maybe it was just the pressure of the situation, but deep down I knew I wouldn't be able to answer even myself if I asked the question at some other private point. There probably wasn't any reason for it at all; I just didn't. I missed the chance anyway. They were probably leaving right as I was coming. And, on that note, it was for the good of everything and everyone in any and every way. Really. Me going to Hueco Mundo and expecting to actually make a difference? Not likely.

"It's a long story, Tatsuki." My tone hadn't changed much since the last time I spoke, still lowered and down to business. "A long story full of things that wouldn't make sense to you and are too complicated for me to explain in full. Just trust me when I say you should stay out of it for as long as you can, okay? Orihime wouldn't want you getting into trouble because of her, so just trust that she's in the best hands possible right now."

There was a pause that I could have sworn matched the time I'd been alive. Tatsuki ended it, her grip on me loosening before falling away all together. I began to breathe easier and only then realized that I _hadn't_ been breathing in the first place. The relief was pretty short-lived, though, when I got around to getting a good look at the tom-boy.

"Yeah," she muttered, her face shrouded in shadow as her head bowed to the ground. "She's in good hands, huh? With Ichigo? And that's just fine with you, so you decided to hang around here and let someone else take care of it?"

Keigo had moved in in an instant, hovering behind Tatsuki with his hands out and ready to reach if necessary. I hadn't even noticed him as a bystander.

"Tatsuki," I heard him whisper in warning. "C'mon, not again."

"No," she agreed, but I still eyed her quivering fists warily. "No, not again. She's not worth it. She was never really our friend in the first place."

Tatsuki never looked up, but she did jerk her chin away, as if the very fact of knowing I was in her line of sight was painful. It was Keigo's gaze that I met instead, but that was probably just as bad. There was still confusion, disappointment, and accusation there, even if it was absent of animosity. My eyes darted away on their own accord, falling by chance on Mizuiro. It wasn't much of an improvement.

I cleared my throat, feeling like a pig getting ready to be roasted. I gave on odd sort of nod to the general company before lifting up a jello-y leg and taking the first of many agonizingly long steps down the hall. Keigo and Mizuiro's eyes were on me - I could feel them - and it took all I had in me not to sprint until I could escape from firing range.

"The walk of shame, Mikita," I muttered to myself, my eyes pinching shut as I struggled to get a grip. "The walk of shame."

* * *

"Open."

Nothing happened.

"...Open sesame?"

Nada.

"Open coconut?"

Zilch.

"Alakazam and a bottle of rum?"

Nil.

I huffed, lowering Taimozou and tossing him onto my bed. How was it those guys did it again? I was pretty sure Renji hadn't even said anything, but it had been a long time since I'd seen him do it, and I wasn't in the best shape of my life then. I knew it was a long shot, but I just felt compelled to give it a try. It was probably like those electronic finger print pads that opened the doors in super-ultra-secret government facilities; Taimozou would have had to been registered in the Soul Society in some way to be able to act as a key for their fancy portal.

All the same, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. What would I have really done if I had managed to summon some Senkaimon smack dab in the middle of my bedroom? I wasn't really sold on the idea of using it in the first place, so I probably would have stood there gaping for one second, fist-pumped in accomplishment the next, and then realized that I had no idea how to get rid of it and I would be stuck with the glowing doorway as a roommate. It was just an impulsive, experimental move when it came down to it, I guess; I hadn't really wanted it to work so that I could actually go there or anything. Nope. Now that my curiosity was fulfilled, that was the end of it. Yup.

Really, I wouldn't have jumped in if it had worked. My motives were just a fleeting thought that was best tucked away in my head and not brought out into the real world of action. I wouldn't think about it again. It wasn't their problem, honestly. If the Soul Society didn't want to be a part of Orihime's rescue that was their prerogative, even if it sucked. I wasn't in any position to protest it.

I scratched my ear, my nose wrinkling up in indecision. It was so weird to be in Karakura with no spiritual friends to play around with or teenage-ghost drama. The town seemed so empty of life all of a sudden, and I was antsy. Somehow, I knew I couldn't distract myself from that fact if I tried.

But that didn't mean I wasn't going to try.

I dug around in my pocket until my fingers clasped around my phone and I was able to tug it out. My fingers went to work, navigating me to my contacts and hesitating over the name that I had in mind. But, true to the personality I had paved for myself, I decided to screw caution and throw it to the wind, pressing down on the green button harder than necessary to prove a point to myself.

It rang a few times before the person picked up.

"Keigo?" I questioned, as if I really needed to make sure. He affirmed his identity, as asked. "This is Mikita." State your name just in case the caller ID in all cell phones just didn't happen to be working on his, why don't you. "Let's go on a date."

He agreed, and we made quick plans to meet up at that one family restaurant in the middle of town that I'd never really bothered to learn the name of in an hour. When we hung up mutually I sighed, plopping the phone down onto my bed much in the same way I had discarded Taimozou. Looking at them then, side-by-side and haphazardly dumped, made it seem like they were both just useless novelty items.

Something occurred to me then, as if a decision had finally been made. I leaned in, placing my fingers over Tai's benign blade, and closed my eyes.

* * *

I really hated uncomfortable silences when there was food around, because then the only thing you could do to ease the tension was eat, and that's how you landed yourself into the position of being as full as a tick while trying to walk off the weight and praying your gut isn't hanging out over your belt any more than normal.

I was a little annoyed by the fact that I was alone in my suffering. Keigo had only picked at his food during dinner and answered my lame attempts at conversation with abbreviated half-brained replies and mechanical smiles. It was unnerving, coming from a character like him, but it wasn't like I didn't know what was bringing it on. I was waiting for him to get to the point and open his mouth but he never took the plunge, not even as we walked home afterwards and were far away from any eavesdroppers. It was annoying.

"You know," I interrupted the lull between us, watching my breath take on a misty form as it floated up in the night air with a grimace. Winter was coming fast. "I thought you'd be a smidge more exciting as a date. Keep this up and I might not go out with you again."

Keigo didn't seem to register my words, only walking alongside me at the same dragging dirge of a pace. His sneakers skimmed across the ground (which, had the circumstances been a little different, I would have tripped him for and told him it was about time he learn how to pick up his feet) his hands shoved down into the pockets of his jacket and his head hanging low. You'd think the guy was being led to his own funeral. I wasn't that bad of company, was I?

I spoke the thought aloud, hoping to get some response out of him from it, whether a yay or a nay. I didn't. But just about when I was ready to call it a lost cause and pretend my phone was vibrating with a call from home, I noticed his lips part. The excuse died on the tip of my tongue, and I waited on baited breath for him to choke out whatever it was he wanted to say.

"It's just," he murmured, his voice a kind of somber calm I'd never heard from him before, "what Tatsuki said before..."

Despite knowing that it was coming all along and having been waiting for it all night, the pivotal moment tied my stomach up in knots. My neck lost its strength almost instantly, leaving my chin dropping down until it was nearly resting on my chest.

Keigo took in a deep breath and filled his lungs with some frigid air before going on. "I've been thinking about it. She and Mizuiro and I were there the other night, you know. We saw Ichigo and Chad and Uryuu going into that portal, and that weird candy store owner said they were leaving to do their part in helping Orihime. He said that we had our own part to do, too, but I haven't figured out what it is yet."

The corners of my lips felt heavy. Urahara had let them be there to see that? What was he playing at by dragging more people into this mess?

"I did figure something out, though," Keigo went on, gaining some confidence. "You live with that weird candy store owner, and since it seems like he's known what's going on for longer than anyone else then that means you must have known what was going on for longer than anyone else, too. You're more directly involved than Ichigo and the rest because, somehow, you're more of a part of it. You were never _not_ a part of, were you?"

I didn't know if he was pressing for confirmation, so I didn't bother to give him any. Keigo was definitely more perceptive than I had given him credit for, even if some of his assumptions weren't particularly head-on. It was scary. I was starting to feel like I never really knew him at all, for what it was worth.

Whether he actually was speaking rhetorically or just didn't want to wait for me to find my tongue, Keigo continued.

"I guess I can understand you better, if that's what's going on," he told me. "I can understand why you would try to keep us all at certain distance if you knew that you would never really be on the same level as the rest of us, and why you would feel like you needed to maintain that distance because any friendships you'd make would be in some kind of jeopardy. I guess you sort of make sense now that I know more about the situation. But even with that said...I still think that Tatsuki was wrong."

My eyes darted up to meet his on impulse.

"I still consider you a friend, and I think you have been all along, no matter how much you tried not to be. It's like I said before: you may act like you're so cool and untouchable all the time, but I would still trust if it came down to it. Maybe you might not be as ready to admit it or as fixated on it as Ichigo, but I know it's there. I know you care about us and you're not still here just because Orihime wasn't important enough for you to go after."

I brought my eyes back down to the ground. They were starting to sting.

"It's just that there's something important here, right? You're here protecting something else important while Ichigo goes away, and that's what your place in this whole thing is. You had to stay behind to do some kind of job here. You're being kept from leaving, but you're still doing your part in the best way you can."

My eyes closed, and I directed as much focus as I could towards fighting the tingling on the underside of my sockets.

Apparently, I was putting so much attention into that task that I forgot to karate chop Keigo when he got ballsy and decided that grabbing my hand was a good idea.

No matter how disgusted I should have been, the fact that Keigo and I were strolling hand-and-hand down the sidewalk wasn't the worst thing going for me at that moment. While I was distracted by my own inner strife, Keigo took my complacency as a sign that everything was A-okay with what he was doing and let his thumb trail along my knuckles. He'd probably seen the move in a movie somewhere. I only vaguely felt it.

I grew numb to the feeling soon enough, and figured it wasn't such a bad thing. Keigo never ceased to throw me for a loop in one way or another. What was this guy doing, being so nice and intimate when he didn't know a damn thing about me? I wasn't here because I had a "job" to do. I wasn't doing a single stinkin' thing to make sure Orihime would return home safely, or that her home itself would stay safe and be ready for her return. I wasn't doing anything, and wasn't so much as worrying about the people who were.

That wasn't very friendly of me, was it?

I was coaxed out of my trance when Keigo was in front of me all of a sudden, a few inches taller and a few inches closer.

His eyes were the size of teaspoons. "Hey, you alright there, Mikita? You were spacing out on me."

I cleared my head with a few blinks, taking in the area around us. We'd reached the shouten, and Keigo had taken it upon himself to walk me to the door and step up onto the mini stoop.

"Yeah," I said, fully aware that it was an empty statement. "I'm ace."

Keigo stayed quiet, watching me like he was actually a normal human being who could pick up on other peoples' moods without needing to have them shoved in his face. I didn't let him look me in the eye, instead keeping my sights fixed on a knot in the wood of the door frame. My lack of attention was most likely why I didn't notice his face getting even more up in my grill.

The smell in the air changed when he was about a hand's length away, but I didn't feel his breath until there was about a finger's distance from nose-to-nose. I got distracted then from the scent of some kind of spice, like a salsa or chili or something of the likes. There was an impulsive scan of the fridge in my mind, despite my bloated belly, that I hoped would dissuade me from giving in to the craving (if we didn't have any salsa I couldn't eat salsa, right?). I sort of thought it was my imagination when I could taste the tanginess a bit better, a piping-warm spoonful of chunky stew pressed right up against my lips.

Or, you know, that might have just been Keigo's mouth.

I hoped the way I wrenched away from him as if he had just burped up some vomit wasn't overly offensive, and that he wouldn't take my hacking coughs or furious mouth scrubbing too personally.

"Oh my god," I whispered at first before my voice exploded in volume. "Oh my god! Keigo, y-you just _kissed_ me, you ass! What the hell was that?"

He was still in some kind of shock, but he came around soon enough to do his part in putting some more distance between us. "Hey, calm down! It just seemed like the right thing to do!"

"Why would that seem like the right thing to do?" I spit into the dirt, ultra lady-like, wanting to get rid of any residual Asano germs.

"I don't know! It was the end of the date and we were here at your doorstep and you were pretty bummed out so I thought it might make you feel better!"

I had been bent over, hands to my knees and head bowed to the ground, but I lifted my face up so that I could see him. His fingers were tying tangles into his messy auburn mop-top, his cheeks a faint pink.

"I don't know," he repeated, looking anywhere but at me. "I just…wanted to."

There was nothing else I could think to do but just watch him for a while, my breathing steadying out after the traumatic experience. As I mellowed, Keigo only grew more agitated, fidgeting with anything he could get his fingers on and unable to stand still in one position.

Seeing that, an acerbic smile came to my lips, and I let my head fall forward once more. "I can't believe I just had my first kiss with…" But I cut myself off, my eyes widening. "Oh my god, that was my first kiss! And it was with _you_?"

"Really?" Keigo cheeped in surprise. "That was your first kiss? It was mine, too!"

I let out a single, mirthless laugh, shaking my head and still too caught up in the realization that for as long as I'd been alive, this was the only time I had ever gotten around to playing oral patty-cake with a boy. And after all the trouble I gave Renji…

It occurred to me that nothing else could come from this night out to top what had just happened, and prolonging the moment any more would just be overkill. I took it upon myself pull it together and buffalo my way past him to the door, call out a casual good night, and lock myself in the shop, leaving Keigo alone outside.

I put my back up against the wall once I got inside, listening to Keigo call out his own enthusiastic farewells and thanks and "I'll call you". A snort practically fell out of my nostrils at his turn of mood.

"Well, at least he's happy," I told myself. It was with that thought that the smile that'd snuck its way onto my own face waned.

* * *

"What this place needs... is a nice cherry Firebird. With a Ratt casette playing on full volume from the dash."

I could settle with a golf cart without the radio, though. Anything to help make moving around Urahara's Sahara not so much like Chinese water torture. I could just do the singing part myself.

"_I knew right from the beginning that you would end up winnin'_..." It wasn't exactly the same without the horrible 80's sound quality and shark skin jeans, but it was better than silence. "_I knew right from the start you'd put an arrow through my heart_..."

Somehow, the music didn't have the desired effect. I just felt even more pathetic and alone. So I stopped and used my magically enhanced abilities to zap myself to Urahara's side once again, defying the laws of nature and loving it.

I got the feeling that Urahara knew what sort of thoughts had been going through my mind lately, and his devotion to hanging around down in the isolated place was due to that. He knew everything, really, so it wasn't much of a surprise. He was just waiting for me to realize what he already realized that I would realize.

I hiked he last few steps to his side, letting out a long breath in the process. I planted my shoe more firmly into the dirt with the last footfall, my exhale coming to an end.

"Well," I piped after a short silence, "I guess you know why I'm here, right? Get to it."

When he didn't move for another short silence, I shifted my eyes to get a look at him. His stare was straight ahead, even as he commented, "Nice ring."

My mood dipped, and my eyes lowered to my left hand as my second finger inadvertently rolled the cool metal around my thumb. Jerk. As if he couldn't sense the reiatsu coming off of it.

"Yeah, I found it in my bed the other say," I said, nonchalant. "Anyway, c'mon, let's get on with this."

Urahara remained tight lipped, not making any move to acknowledge my words at all. I adjusted my stance, letting my weight fall on my left leg so that I could lean towards him with a purposeful cock of a brow. His lips formed into a straight line.

"I just want to know one thing first," he said, actually deigning to look in my direction. "What makes think you're going to have any influence over the Soutaichou's orders? What exactly do you plan on doing to help Orihime?"

"I'm a hell of a lot better at talking than I am at fighting," I quipped, ready and willing to answer. I'd thought about it myself over the last few days and had come up with an answer to satisfy my own original misgivings. "So I figure I can talk my way into getting other people who_ are_ capable of fighting to fight, ya dig?"

Urahara continued to watch me like a hawk, so I rolled my eyes and went on.

"It's not like I'm going to waltz right up to the friggin' Soutaichou and demand he change his mind," I tutted, wishing I could do just that, "but there's no denying that everyone in that Court owes them all something: Ichigo, Orihime, Uryuu, and Chad, I mean. The Soul Society should be supporting Ichigo even if they don't agree with the turn of events, just like Ichigo's done for them all along. They just need to see it that way. I know there are at least a few people there that I can convince, and I'm going to try my darndest to lay on the sweet talk and rope as many as I can into my web of retribution and justice."

Just call me the father-flucking Spiderwoman.

I cleared my throat, not liking the heaviness in the air after that dramatic moment. Sucking on the inside of my cheek, I angled my whole body so that I face Urahara.

"Are you gonna open the portal so I can do this or what? You wait too much longer and I might change my mind and back out."

He gave a small smile that wasn't completely genuine, but not all fake. "I guess it's something, coming from you. I hope you're prepared for what's ahead of you. Good luck."

I nodded, taking in a deep breath as Urahara worked his magic and got his mystical doorway activated. Knowing the time frame I was working with, I plunged in as soon as I got the signal, keeping that last breath stuck in my throat as if it were that gulp of determination that I'd be living without for all this time.

I had to do it. For Orihime.

* * *

**(A/N) Well, Happy Halloween, everyone! Is this a trick or treat, do you think?**

**...Unfortunately, it may be both. After the longest wait to date, I don't come bearing good news of being back in full-swing with a pillow-case full of sugar-coated morsels of chapters to come. I'm not dropping the story, of course, but I've had a feeling for a while now that I really, truly, honestly can't ignore anymore.**

**I've admitted this before, so you guys know that I started writing this story without any aim: I began where I began just because I saw the opportunity to begin there, and Mikita was just the person that wrote herself into the picture as I went along. I actually played around with the idea of this being a Hisagi fic during the first few chapters (don't ask how the _hell_ I would have worked that one out, given that Renji's actually a primary character and I haven't even gotten him in any romantic light yet!) and it only ended up going in this direction because that's the way the wind blew. I didn't have any problem with this "building the story as I go along" tactic up until I got into the heavier plot line, and that was when I started to realize that it didn't work at all in the grand scheme of things. My mind's been stuck on the idea of re-writing the entire story to polish up some rough spots and bring the whole thing together, and that nagging feeling keeps biting at me everytime I sit down to work on OtCtC.**

**As much as I want to put the whole thing on hold NOW and do that for myself before anything else, I know it's not fair to you guys. My heart hasn't been really into writing any of the last few chapters, and, while I'm sure it must show, I still feel like I need to accomplish _something_ with this story before I go back and do that grand re-write. I don't want to just cut everything off in the middle of things, so I'll hold out a little longer, so long as you guys hang in there with me, too!**

**So, yeah. This may sound absurdly serious/silly to some of you, or it might seem like there's no point in me sharing it at all since nothing's really changing for the time being, but I just want to let everyone know what's going on in my head. Also, I'm sorry that updates can't be as frequent as they've been in the past. I was about fourteen when I started writing this story, and the wicked truth is that I'm not that young and care-free anymore. I have big-girl responsibilities and other real-life hobbies. I want my writing to remain one of those hobbies, but that can't happen if it feels more like an obligation. You know? I used to have no problem ignoring reality to please an audience, but that just can't happen anymore.**

**And now, I drop the ultra-needlessly-tense moment and wish you all a happy Halloween! My favorite holiday, if you didn't know. Fun fact that I just found out and am super fascinated with: did you know that it's against the law to trick-or-treat if you're older than twelve years old? No joke. Raise you're hand high and proud if you've just discovered you're a delinquent!**

**I, funanyaTHEmute, am raising my hand with you.**


	26. Author's Note

Okay. Here it goes.

Since I know no one probably will (or has) read my profile, I figured I'd be one of those jackbutts who psychs you out by making an author's note a chapter, dismembering your expectations of a longlong_long_ awaited update. But I do have an important announcement concerning this story!

So basically, right at the start of the year, I put a little paragraph up on my profile saying that I was officially taking a break from this thing. That was in hopes of finding proof in the saying "absence makes the heart grow fonder". I decided that the best thing would be to walk away, pig out on Teddy Grahams and Animal Crackers for a couple months while developing a strange fetish for Norwegian pop-rock music, and return when the birds started singing to find that my romance with Renji had been rekindled and ideas for this story had popped up from the frozen earth as a mosaic of vividly colored tulips.

Spring is now upon us (well, us in the northern hemisphere, anyway) and it's time to test out this theory. But I'm not jumping right into Chapter 26. No, no. I lost track of my vision with this story a long time ago (if I ever truly had any at all), so I've decided that a sort of re-write is needed. It's like the Industrial Revolution, really; I'm gonna go back and pave those rocky dirt roads with shiny black tar, and hopefully by the end of it we will all be going at full steam ahead. I'm honestly really anxious to get going on this; I've missed writing Mikita SO UNEXPECTEDLY MUCH!

There probably won't be any major changes you need to worry about. I'm not very good with a crystal ball, but from what I can see I'll just be plucking out a bunch of weeds and adding in some minor doses of Mircale Grow to help things progress.

(And by now I've both exhausted and become annoyed with the garden allusions, so they end here, dammit!)

The point of this not-a-chapter-chapter is, then, that you should disregard the multitude of emails you receive alerting you of new chapters being posted. They are not new chapters. They are me sawing and hammering and Gorilla Glue-ing this thing into something presentable. (I'm actually not one hundred percent sure if those of you who are subscribed to this story will get emails alerting you of new chapters when I'm just replacing existing ones, but I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.)

My vague plan is to spend the latter part of May and June patching things up and be ready to get a-vroom'in on with new stuff for the full-heat of summer. Unless otherwise stated there's no need to re-read everything just because I'm re-writing it. (Then again, you might need to just to remind yourself what even happened in this story, eh?). I'll alert you if I end up taking things further than I intend to at this premature moment. Promise! Until then, hang in there with me a little longer, please. And thank you for hanging in there with me for as long as you have! _Seriously_. If I were any one of you, I would have given up on my a LONG time ago. I'm completely and totally and deliriously aware of how undeserving I am of such loyal followers. (...If I even still have loyal followers DX)

-fTm


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